The Mark of Fen'Harel
by alwaysingirl
Summary: When Ariella Lavellan wakes in chains, she finds herself thrust into the middle of a human organization trying to save the world. They force her to lead, call her "Herald of Andraste." She just wants to close the Breach and go home. But as she grows closer to the people around her, she starts to realize that, maybe, the Dalish had it wrong the whole time. Lavellan/Solas
1. Chains

**Well, hello my lovely readers! If you happen to follow me on this site and that's why you've found yourself here, then you know it's been 3 (!) years since I updated my other story. I know, I know, you don't have to tell me. "Why are you posting a new story when you were _this close_ to finishing the last one?!" Well, to be honest, the Zelda story is so dear and close to my heart that I don't want to add to it unless my heart is 100% in it. Which it isn't. Don't worry! I _do_ plan on finishing that story, but not now. Not until I can really do it justice.**

**Which brings me to this. So this story kinda came about because of a question my husband asked me. I'm a diehard Solas/Lavellan fan and we recently blew the dust off our old copy of Inquisition to start new play throughs. And he asked me, "Why would your _Dalish_ elf be into this guy who hates on their culture so much? What's your thought process here?" So I did as any writer does: I started fleshing my head cannon out by writing. Before I knew it, I was a week in with 35,000 words and somewhere around 12 chapters... Guys, I haven't been this enthusiastic about my writing in a _long_ time. A _really_ long time. At first, it started as something of a guilty pleasure, getting to develop my character and her relationship with those around her outside of the (hilarious) banter in game. But the story has really held me and I'm still going strong. I had no plans to post it really. But why keep this to myself? I'm a writer! That's what this site is for!**

**Well, onto the disclaimers, etc. I (obviously) don't own any of the characters. That honor goes to Bioware and their amazing writing team. This will be very true to canon, as I've pulled a lot of the dialogue from the game itself. (Can I take a moment to say how freaking _hard_ it is trying to find appropriate dialogue for your character in a game like this?! I can't tell you how many different walkthroughs I've had to sift through to find the right combination of choices, race, class, etc. Ugh, don't underestimate how big of a task that is...)**

**This will be a fairly...what's the term they're using now? Slow burn? I do follow the storyline closely - adding my own twists, dialogue, and stuff to flesh out the characters of course - so it takes a bit to get into the flow. I do skip over a lot, though. Otherwise this story would be an ungodly length and I'd be burnt out before I had a chance to finish.**

**Also, quickly going to say, NO SMUT IN THIS B****! Honestly, it just doesn't float my boat at all, so if you've come here looking for smutty, blah, blah, blah, sex scenes, this won't be the story for you :(**

**This story _does_ assume you have a very basic understanding of the lore of the DA universe. I will be posting small footnotes at the bottom of each chapter though with things like elven translations and brief reminders of what things are, like the Fade and the different gods. I'll be pulling those directly from the DA Wiki page, which is excellent at citing their sources so it's my go-to as well for these kinds of things.**

**And, last but not least, FREAKING SPOILER WARNING! I mean, that should be obvious. If you _don't_ know what happens, the truth of...certain things...I suggest not venturing too deep into Dragon Age articles to keep from, well, spoiling the ending XD**

**As of right now, the plan is to post a chapter twice a week: Mondays and Fridays. At least until I've caught up to where I'm currently at in the writing.**

**I guess, on with the show!**

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1 - Chains

I wake in chains. The pain is what wakes me initially. It flashes through my hand, setting my blood aflame. I open my eyes and cringe against the brightness. The green light dancing across my left palm is what lets me see the heavy iron I feel clapped around my wrists.

Four shemlen **(1)** guards stand around me, swords all pointed in my direction.

My heart hammers hard against my chest. I don't have a single memory of how I got here. I barely remember leaving my clan to spy on the Conclave. Now here I am, their prisoner.

Will they torture me? Will their men take and defile me, as they have done to my flat-ear **(2)** sisters? Dread Wolf, no. Please, no.

A door opens at the far end of the room. I look up in time to see two shemlen women enter. They separate from each other as they near, one standing behind me. The other, a masculine woman who reeks of authority, kneels in front of me. Her dark eyes narrow.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

It feels like a punch in the gut. My stomach drops deep into my feet. Everyone at the Conclave..._dead_?

I do not trust my voice to remain as calm as I make my eyes. I merely watch as she stands and paces in front of me. When I don't answer, she groans in frustration and grabs the metal hanging from my wrist.

"Explain _this_!" she yells.

My hand sears again, the green light flashing across it as if emphasizing her anger. I wince against the pain. "I…can't," I stammer.

"What do you mean, you can't?"

It takes all my will to keep my voice steady this time. "I don't know what that is or how it got there."

"You're lying!"

The woman moves toward me, quick on her feet. I get one fleeting glance at the jagged scar running the length of her jaw before I flinch away from her raised hand.

The blow doesn't come. I hear the woman behind me move.

"We need her, Cassandra."

This one's voice is soft and delicate. I take a quick peek at her, see a flash of shoulder-length red hair poking out from under a deep hood. Then she moves out of my sight, behind me once more.

"Whatever you think I did, I'm innocent." My voice is strong, defiant. My eyes harden as I look at the woman called Cassandra.

"Do you remember what happened?" the woman behind me asks. "How this began?"

I _have_ to try to remember. I know this deep within my being. If I don't, they will kill me. I take a deep breath, letting my eyes flutter closed as I try to pull memories from the fog in my mind.

A dark void. Swirling green mist. Red eyes. A bright light in the darkness.

"I remember running. Things were chasing me. And then…a woman?"

"A woman?"

I open my eyes, turning toward the soft-spoken shemlen. "She reached out to me, but then…"

Cassandra and the other woman exchange a quick glance. I have enough dealings with man to understand the hesitation in their gazes.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana," Cassandra instructs. "I will take her to the rift."

Rift?

The one called Leliana walks out of the room with a grace rare for a human.

Cassandra stalks toward me and I gasp, readying myself for another attack. But she reaches down and starts to undo the chains around my wrists.

"What _did_ happen?" I hear myself ask.

Cassandra grabs a rope from the floor and uses it to bind my hands together in front of me. She then looks at me with dark eyes full of sadness.

"It will be easier to show you."

She grabs me by my elbow, pulling me from the ground. My heart races once again. I have no choice but to follow her.

The stark difference between the dark cell and the brightness outside burns my vision. I flinch against it, throwing my hand up to cover my face.

At first, I think the green light I see beyond my fingers comes from the strange mark across my hand. My mouth goes dry as I look up and see the light stretching across the entire sky. My eyes follow the flashes of green darting across the clouds to where it all gathers in a vortex off in the distance. Chunks of mountain and rubble float aimlessly in the air directly in the middle. Green lights pulse like corrupted lightning, converging inside the storm.

My mouth drops.

"We call it the Breach," Cassandra says. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

My body is so numb I cannot tell how fast or slow my heart beats. My hands tremble. "An explosion can do that?"

"This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

I shake my head in disbelief.

Suddenly, the air cracks. Green light waves outward from the Breach. Then my body heaves forward as pain shoots through my being. My hand glows a bright green, the same green as the Breach stretching out before me. I don't even realize I've collapsed until I feel the stones digging into my knees.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads…and it is killing you."

I clench my hands into fists, my mouth running dry.

"It may be the key to stopping this but there isn't much time."

I rein in my fear. "It _may_ be the key? To doing what?"

"Closing the Breach. Whether that's possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however." She looks down at me, sneering slightly. "And yours."

I scowl back at her. "You _still_ think I did this? To myself?"

"Not intentionally. _Something_ clearly went wrong."

"And if I'm not responsible?"

"Someone is, and you are our only suspect."

I clench my jaw.

"You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way."

"So I don't really have a choice about this."

Her ebony brows pull together. "None of us has a choice."

I growl under my breath and look away from her.

She pulls me to my feet, holding me by the elbow. She pushes me slightly ahead of her as she veers toward the crowd gathered just a few feet away.

The people standing all turn to look at me as we pass. They sneer at me, yell, throw their fists. My stomach drops as I turn away from them, looking toward the ground.

"They have decided your guilt," Cassandra says. "They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry."

The title stirs something in my memories. From what my Keeper had told me, the Divine was the one putting on the Conclave.

"The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead."

How would I feel, waking to find my Keeper and most of my clan killed?

A gate is opened for us.

"We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed."

I hear the gate close behind us. Curiosity has me glance over my shoulder at the two soldiers standing guard just behind us. When I look back, Cassandra stands before me with a dagger glinting in her hand.

My throat tightens, my body constricting.

"There will be a trial. I can promise no more."

I back away as the dagger slashes toward me. But my ropes merely fall to the ground at my feet. I look down at my freed hands in confusion. She's…letting me go?

"Come. It is not far."

I decide that I would feel sadness. Anger. A need for revenge.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask, curiosity tainting my voice.

"Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach."

Cassandra pulls ahead, the mere glance over her shoulder telling me to follow. I nod to myself and do as she wishes.

Death and destruction litter the bridge. Bodies lay in the snow. Men sit rocking in fear behind small wooden barriers. Some pray to their gods. We cross and Cassandra stops in front of the guards at the end.

"Open the gate!" she yells. "We are headed into the valley!"

We keep moving, passing more bodies, more people praying. We crest a small hill.

Pain shoots through my hand once more. I scream in agony, grasping my wrist as I twist to the ground. Then it's gone, fast as it had come.

Cassandra leans down and pulls me up. "The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face."

I'm panting in pain. I close my eyes and pull myself together. "How _did_ I survive the blast?"

"They said you…stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you'll see soon enough."

We continue forward. I keep ahold of my wrist, rubbing my thumb into my palm. I shake it, part of me hoping that the mark will fall away with enough force.

We come to another bridge. Bodies litter this one as well. A wagon burns in the chaos.

The Breach pulses again. This time, the crash in the air is too close. Something falls from the sky in a great roar of sound, colliding into the bridge just steps in front of where I stand.

The ground quakes and then disappears altogether.

For just a small moment, my body floats. And then I plummet toward the ground. Everything falls toward the frozen river below. The ice is thick, holding despite the tons of weight barreling into it. My body seizes in pain as I hit the frozen water, landing square on my back.

I moan and push myself up. Cassandra yells and my heart drops as I see the green light erupting from the ground in front of her. A Shade demon materializes, flailing its arms in the air as it lunges at her.

I shuffle backwards as another bubbling green light oozes out of the ice just in front of me. My heart races as I look around frantically, knowing that I need to arm myself with something, _anything_, before I'm overcome.

A staff sits atop the rubble of what was once the bridge.

I grab it, turning just in time to see another Shade appear just as I knew it would. I push at my mana, feeling it pulse as bolts of lightning stab at the demon. I swing the staff, my mana shooting out of the end like bullets, pelting the demon and pushing it back. I hold out my hand, push with my mind. The blast sends it reeling backwards and it shrinks, disappearing in a flash of smoke.

My breathing slows, my heart still thrumming in my chest. "It's over."

Cassandra barrels over to me, her sword aimed directly at my throat.

"Drop your weapon. _Now_."

My mana pulses again. "A demon attacked me," I say slowly, careful with the tone of my voice. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You don't _need_ to fight."

"Are you saying it won't happen again?"

She hesitates.

"Do you really think I need a staff to be dangerous?" My palms flash.

Cassandra's eyes narrow. "You're right. You don't need a staff, but you should have one." When she sheathes her sword, I lower my staff. "I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless." She eyes me as I hook the staff to my belt. "I should remember you did not attempt to run." She reaches into her pack and pulls out a couple bottles of potion. "Take these. Maker knows what we will face."

I place them in the small pack on my hip. I then look around, behind us toward the collapsed bridge. As far as I can see, we're the only people here. "Where are all your soldiers?"

"At the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own, for now."

Demons attempt to stop us as we follow the frozen river. Cassandra is a formidable woman, taking them down with little effort. I have no experience fighting demons myself, so I concentrate on keeping her safe from the demons that try to flank her.

The farther we go, the more I realize I can hear shouting in the distance; the sounds of battle.

"We're getting close to the rift," Cassandra says. "You can hear the fighting."

"_Who's_ fighting?" The soldiers she mentioned? The woman named Leliana from earlier?

"You'll see soon enough. We must help them."

There is no way forward. A building stands half destroyed, ceiling gone and walls half crumbled to the ground. We can hear them just on the other side. I heave myself over the remnants of the wall, pull myself inside.

Above a group of people, a sparkling green light hovers, pulsing like the mark on my hand.

Cassandra and I join the fray, pushing back the demons that pour from the green light. My mana flows, bending to my will, striking them down until they turn to dust.

When the last one finally falls, one of the men we'd helped rushes toward me.

"Quickly, before more come through!"

The man grabs my hand and holds it up to the rift.

Power surges through me as the mark on my hand joins with the shimmering light. My entire being vibrates as the man forces my hand to push against the energy flowing into me. I grit my teeth as the mark pulses, pushing the pain into my body.

And then it's over. The rift is gone in an explosion that ripples through the air just above us.

I look up at the man, taking him in for the first time.

He's a flat-ear. His bare face and clothing scream of one who spends more time with humans than elves.

"What did you do?"

"_I_ did nothing. The credit is yours."

He is the first elf I have seen since leaving to spy on the Conclave. Flat-ear or no, I feel slight comfort knowing I am not the only one of my people here in the middle of these humans.

"I closed that thing? How?"

The flat-ear leans against his staff. "Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake — and it seems I was correct." He smiles in a smug way, inclining his shining head.

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself," Cassandra says.

"Possibly," the flat-ear says. He looks at me again, tilting his head. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

"Good to know!" Another man steps forward. I take a deep breath as I look down at the dwarf. I have never met one of the Children of the Stone before. He is smaller than I, though not by much. The most striking thing is the large quantities of hair protruding from his chest. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." The dwarf nods at me. "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong." He turns to Cassandra and winks.

Cassandra rolls her eyes and scoffs.

I glance back and forth between Varric and the flat-ear. "Are you with the Chantry, or…?"

The flat-ear chuckles. "Was that a serious question?"

I look at him and frown.

"Technically," Varric says, drawing my attention, "I'm a prisoner, just like you."

"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine," Cassandra says defiantly. "Clearly that is no longer necessary."

"Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events."

My mouth hangs open just slightly as I listen to their banter. I can't think of anything to say. Then I note the crossbow slung across Varric's back. It's large, almost as large as the man who wields it.

"That's…a nice crossbow you have there," I stammer.

Varric looks over his shoulder, his eyes soft. "Ah, isn's she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together."

I can't stop myself from smiling. "You named your crossbow Bianca?"

"Of course. And she'll be great company in the valley."

Do all dwarfs name their weapons?

"It's good to meet you, Varric," I say.

The flat-ear chuckles again under his breath. "You may reconsider that stance, in time."

"Aww," Varric moans. "I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Solas."

Solas? As in pride **(3)**? I look back at the flat-ear in wonder. He _does_ hold himself as one who holds much of it; chin high and shoulders back. Is it his name? Or merely an observation?

Cassandra, who had been staring at the Breach off in the distance with brows furrowed, seems to process what Varric had said. "Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated Varric, but…"

"Have you _been_ in the valley lately, Seeker **(4)**? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." He smirks, head tilted off to the side, showing straight and white teeth. His nose looks like it has been broken one too many times to heal properly.

Cassandra groans.

The flat-ear steps forward as Cassandra backs away. "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see you still live."

It _is_ his name, then.

"He means," Varric adds, "'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'"

I look back at the flat-ear, my mind wandering to an image of him hovering over me in that dark cell. "You seem to know a great deal about this." I hold up my marked hand.

Cassandra comes back. "Like you, Solas is an apostate **(5)**."

"Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra." The flat-ear then turns back to me. "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade **(6)**, far beyond the experience of any Circle **(7)** mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

He studies the Fade? Our Keeper always warned us gifted with magic about the dangers of becoming too close to the Fade. There were too many temptations, too many demons waiting to possess an unsuspecting host. There were not many of us with magical talent, but even one rouge mage in a clan could spell devastation quite easily.

"And what will you do once this is all over?" I ask.

"One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not." He looks at Cassandra, who avoids his stare.

I incline my head. "Then…I guess I owe you my thanks."

"Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process."

My heart speeds its rhythm. The thought of it killing me hadn't even crossed my mind. "Well, since everyone else has been introduced, I am Ariella Lavellan."

At this, I see the first sign of…_something_ in the flat-ear's gaze. His eyes narrow slightly as they travel over Mythal's **(8)** vallaslin **(9) **branching out around my eyes. He has no vallaslin of his own, his face marked only by a small scar above his brow and one cutting vertically down the middle of his chin. But then the look is gone, so quickly I can't help but think I imagined it.

"Cassandra," he says, "you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen." He nods toward me without looking away from her. "Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

Cassandra huffs. "Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly."

"Well…Bianca's excited," Varric adds.

It is only then I remember there had been more than these two men warring against the rift. I look down, my heart heavy as I look upon the other men's corpses.

We travel, battling demons as they drop from the sky. The addition of Varric and Solas proves to be useful. Varric wields Bianca like a true pro, and the flat-ear… His magic is a slight bit careless, as if it has never been properly refined. His wards are much more efficient than mine, however, so I concentrate on bringing lightning to strike down the demons.

The mark flares once again. I manage to stay on my feet this time but cannot stop the sharp inhale of air sucked through my teeth.

"Shit," Varric grunts. "Are you all right?"

"We must hurry," the flat-ear says, "before the mark consumes her."

"So…" Varric clears his throat. "_Are_ you innocent?"

I look back at him. "I don't remember what happened."

He laughs a deep, booming laugh. "That'll get you every time. Should have spun a story."

"That's what _you_ would have done," Cassandra sighs.

He pulls his reddish-blond hair back into a ponytail. "It's more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution."

I say nothing. In a better time, I may have found his words funny. But now, they just make my stomach fall to my feet.

There is another shining rift glaring down at us from the top of a large hill. I look down at the mark on my hand, nodding as I throw my shoulders back and charge toward it.

* * *

**(1) shemlen - name elves use for the human race. Literal translation is "quick children"**

**(2) flat-ear - a term used for those of the elvish race who either live among humans or do not follow the old elvish ways. Basically an insult saying they are not "one of the people"**

**(3) Solas - elven for "pride"**

**(4) Seeker - refers to the "Seekers of Truth;" an organization that acts like a secret police for the Chantry; they keep an eye on the dealings of the Templar Order**

**(5) apostate - an "illegal" mage not under supervision of the Chantry**

**(6) Fade - the spiritual realm; the world of spirits and demons. Separated from the physical world by the "Veil"**

**(7) Circle - organization responsible for training mages within Thedas; traditionally governed and monitored by the Chantry with the help of the Templar Order**

**(8) Mythal - the elven goddess of love; the All-Mother and Protector**

**(9) vallaslin - elvish for "blood writing." Facial tattoos that the Dalish wear displaying their preferred god; helps differentiate a "true" Dalish elf from those who live like humans**


	2. The Breach

**Since this chapter and the next are both under 2,000 words each, I'll be posting both today!**

**Thank you my lovely readers! Hope you enjoy!**

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2 - The Breach

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes."

The flat-ear says it in a whisper, just loud enough for us to hear. I look upon the wreckage with revulsion. Bodies stand frozen in varying screams of pain, skin completely melted away. My heart drums against my ribs.

"What's left of it," Varric adds.

I swallow the lump that had risen in my throat.

"That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you," Cassandra says, gesturing to the dilapidated structure. "They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

My stomach churns. I ignore it.

Cassandra leads the way through the rubble. We find a way inside, stepping over the bones of countless people. Once inside, we finally have a clear view of the massive Breach, stretching from the ground up to the sky miles above.

Varric whistles. "The Breach _is_ a long way up."

"You're here! Thank the Maker."

I turn. Leliana and a few soldiers join us. I had officially met her back at the forward camp, listened to her argue with one of the priests against my execution. At least for now. Then Leliana had charged in with the soldiers toward the temple while we had traveled up the mountain pass to look for scouts who had gone missing.

The thought of leaving the scouts hadn't settled well in my chest. _If_ I had caused this in any way, I couldn't bear to think of leaving more people, no matter who they were, to their deaths. I needed to right the wrongs I may have caused.

"Leliana," Cassandra says, "have your men take up positions around the temple." She then turns toward me. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

I look up at the hole in the sky, heart pounding. "I'm assuming you have a plan to get me up there."

"No," the flat-ear says, appearing next to me. "This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

Cassandra grabs my arm. "Then let's find a way down. And be careful."

She leads the way, winding through more bodies and rubble. I follow without speaking, my mind too full of worry. How will I do this? Closing the smaller rifts had been painful, let alone closing the massive one in front of me. Would the pain kill me?

"Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."

The voice floats around us, booming, echoing off what is left of the walls and mountain. I freeze and my blood runs cold. _Something_ about the voice stirs in my memories, but what I don't know. The soldiers following us raise their weapons, nock arrows.

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra asks.

The flat-ear frowns. "At a guess: the person who created the Breach."

Everyone suddenly seems on edge, walking with more care. I take a deep breath and take the lead.

I feel it before I see it. The lyrium sprouting from the ground calls to me, lighting the mana in my veins. But the song it sings isn't a pleasant one. It makes my body shiver, goose pimples rising all over my skin.

Varric growls. "You know this stuff is red lyrium **(1)**, Seeker."

"I see it, Varric."

"But what is it _doing_ here?"

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…" the flat-ear says, his voice curious.

"It's evil. Whatever you do don't touch it."

"You don't need to tell me that, Varric," I mutter.

The voice from before explodes around us again. "Keep the sacrifice still."

"Someone help me!"

Cassandra goes still and gasps. "That is Divine Justinia's voice!" Her voice wavers, the pain almost tangible.

All goes quiet.

We finally drop down into the crevasse below. Almost immediately, the voices blare over our heads once again.

"Someone help me!" the Divine cries.

"What's going on here?"

My heart drops, my mouth goes dry.

"That was your voice," Cassandra gasps. "Most Holy called out to you. But…"

A bright light suddenly blinds us. I grimace, covering my eyes against it. When I look back, ghostly images stand before us.

An older woman in Chantry robes — who could only be Divine Justinia — floats above, red energy chaining her to something unseen. A large, dark figure looms over her, eyes glowing with the same red power.

Then _I_ run into the room.

"What's going on here?"

The Divine looks toward my ghostly self. "Run while you can! Warn them!"

The swirling dark figure looks toward my ghost. "We have an intruder." It gestures toward me. "Slay the elf!"

Brightness blinds us again. The figures have gone when I open my eyes.

Cassandra leers at me, her brown eyes burning with anger and confusion. "You _were_ there! Who attacked?! And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

My head is pounding. My hands shake. "I don't remember!"

The flat-ear looks around. "Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place." He then looks at me. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

Cassandra shifts her stance, her face twisting into concentration. "That means demons. Stand ready!"

I ignore the people around us getting into position. I stare up at the rift, mouth dry and hands clenched at my sides.

I do not remember what the Fade has shown us. But if what it said is true, I did not start this. I had come to the aid of their Divine. Had the dark figure killed me, or at least attempted to kill me? Is that why I was in the Fade?

I'm in too deep now. I cannot walk away, no matter if it kills me. If this Breach is left to fester and swell, it will consume the entire world. I _must_ try.

I turn to Cassandra and nod. I'm vaguely aware that she passes the message onto our comrades. The dwarf. The flat-ear. I close my eyes, sending my silent prayers to Mythal. When I open them, I see only the growing green light above.

I raise my marked hand.

The rift reacts, just as the others had. Pain shoots through me. But this time, the light pulses and grows, stretching until it finally rips open.

Something pours from the depths of the rift. Horns. Horns everywhere. Four protruding out of the top of its head, many others growing from different points all along its body. Nine eyes in the center of its face, pointed teeth behind its scaly lips.

It's a Pride Demon. I recognize it from the sketches our Keeper had shown me in our lessons.

"Now!" Cassandra screams.

This fight is one that takes all my strength and resolve. The soldiers around us help in the battle, pelting it with arrows and slashing it with swords. My mana surges with power, draining and refilling quickly because of the magic in the air. Varric yells, swinging Bianca as he runs, slamming it into the smaller demons that had followed the Pride Demon from the Fade. The flat-ear dances around the demon, freezing it, shielding all of us in magic.

It feels like hours. The demon keeps protecting itself against our weapons. The only thing that brings it down is my mark, pulling at the rift until the demon falls to its knees. But then it's back on its feet, swinging its fists, throwing bodies away from it as it recharges its shields.

Finally, the Pride Demon falls to the floor, its body dissolving into mist.

"Now! Seal the rift! Do it!" Cassandra yells.

I swing my hand up, grabbing the energy flowing from the Fade. I can feel it fighting me, sucking the life from my being as I tug. I scream as my body seizes.

Then all is black.

* * *

**(1) lyrium - a mineral type substance that exists both in the physical world and the Fade that can strengthen a mage or Templar's powers; typically blue in color**


	3. New Alliance

3 - New Alliance

I don't recognize the bed I lay in when I wake. I push myself upright and hear a crash.

"Oh! I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"

A small flat-ear woman stands shaking at my feet. A box lay crumbled on the ground where she'd dropped it.

"Don't worry about it. I only—"

The flat-ear falls to her knees. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant." Her voice shakes.

Confusion addles my mind. "Where am I?"

"You're back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days!"

"I—" I look down at my glowing mark. It doesn't pain me, at least for the moment. "So you're saying…they're happy with me?"

She still hasn't stood up. "I'm only saying what I heard. I don't mean anything by it." She finally stands to her feet, hands twisting in front of her. "I'm sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you've wakened. She said 'at once!'"

"And where is she?"

"In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,' she said!"

She scrambles away, slamming the door behind her.

I stare back down at my hand. What happened? The Breach had stopped growing, she said. Does that mean it still hovers in the sky? Nails dig into my mark as I clench my fist. Then…I failed. So, why are the others happy with me?

I look around the shemlen cabin. It's small, cramped. My clothes lay on a wardrobe nearby. I quickly undress, changing out of clothes that obviously had been changed for me while I slept. It feels better, being in my own things instead of the strange plainclothes provided for me.

I glance out of a side window. I can see a large temple not far off. It must be the Chantry the servant elf had spoken of.

I freeze once I step out into the daylight. Shemlen of all sizes, ages, men and women, stand waiting. Guards hold their hands crossed over their chests in salute. Everyone goes quiet as the door closes behind me.

Many begin to lower their heads, bowing. Whispers begin to spread in the crowd as I step forward.

A lump forms in my throat.

"That's her. That's the Herald of Andraste **(****1)**. They said she came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over her."

Herald of Andraste? One of their shemlen gods?

"Hush! We shouldn't disturb her."

They leave a path for me up to the Chantry, more whispers following in my wake. Over and over, they call me "Herald of Andraste," something I do not understand. Do they not see the point to my ears? Do they not see the vallaslin twisting its way across my face?

As I get closer to the building, Chantry women kneel before me as I pass, just like the commoners. When I reach the front of the Chantry, a few of the Chantry people speak in hushed tones.

"Chancellor Roderick says that the Chantry wants nothing to do with us."

"That's not Chancellor Roderick's decision, Sister."

The name sounds familiar. I pause to think, recalling the man at the forward camp who had been arguing with Leliana and Cassandra about my fate. He was a crass man, with a slightly pitted face.

He hadn't been pleasant to speak to.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

The room inside is massive. The ceiling stretches to the sky, pillars holding the massive stone structure aloft. There's a certain beauty to the building I cannot deny, no matter my preference for open air and twinkling stars.

The farther into the room I walk, the more voices reach my ears from the far end.

"Have you gone completely mad? She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine."

I recognize the voice. It's the Chancellor man. Roderick. He had said the same thing when Cassandra had marched me up to him at the forward camp.

"I do not believe she is guilty." Cassandra's voice.

"The elf _failed_, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way."

So, I _had_ failed at ridding the world of the Breach. I had been too amazed at the humans bowing to me to look up. I mutter to myself in disappointment, making a mental note to be more observant around these humans, no matter their treatment of me.

"I do not believe that," Cassandra continues.

"That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry."

"My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours."

My gut pangs at me. I ignore it, pushing open the door behind which they all argue.

The two of them, and Leliana, stand gathered around a large table. They all turn when I walk through the door.

"Chain her," the Chancellor says, gesturing to the guards on either side of me. "I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial."

Cassandra waves them away. "Disregard that, and leave us."

I'm only mildly surprised to see the guards salute to her and do as she said.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker," the Chancellor growls.

"The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it."

I clear my throat, dislodging the lump hiding in its depths. "I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me."

"Yet you live," the Chancellor says. "A convenient result, insofar as you're concerned."

"Have a care, Chancellor," Cassandra chastises. "The Breach is not the only threat we face."

Leliana steps forward. "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others — or have allies who yet live." Her eyes flit to him, her gaze holding steady.

"_I_ am a suspect?"

"You, and many others."

"But _not_ the prisoner."

"I heard the voices in the temple," Cassandra adds. "The Divine called to her for help."

"So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand — all a coincidence?"

"Providence," Cassandra says matter-of-factly, as if talking of the weather. "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

The words of the people outside suddenly click into place. They believe me chosen by one of their gods.

"You realize I'm an elf. A _Dalish_ elf."

"I have not forgotten," Cassandra says, her eyes slightly narrowed. "No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it."

Leliana clears her throat. "The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it."

"This is not for you to decide." The Chancellor's face is red with suppressed anger.

Cassandra walks around the large table. She turns back around, slamming a heavy and thick book down onto it.

"You know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act." She seems to grow in size, her shoulders pulling back. "As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." She stalks up to the Chancellor, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval."

Roderick scowls. He throws one last look in my direction before turning and leaving the room.

At least I've avoided execution. For the moment.

Leliana's hand rests against the large volume. "This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos." She shakes her head. "We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

"But we have no choice: we must act now." Cassandra looks at me. "With you at our side."

Me? Why are they willingly asking for my assistance? I hesitate. "What is 'the Inquisition of old,' exactly?" I ask.

Leliana gestures to the book. "It preceded the Chantry: people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad."

"After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more," Cassandra says.

I purse my lips, my brain addled with confusion. "But…aren't you still part of the Chantry?"

Cassandra lets out a snort of laughter. "Is that what you see?"

"The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction," Leliana says.

Cassandra scowls. "But _we_ cannot wait. So many grand clerics died at the Conclave… No, we are on own own. Perhaps forever."

I turn my back on them, looking at the door I'd come through. What would my clan say, if they knew where I was, what I had done? Would they be proud?

I look down at the mark on my hand. It seems as if this is the only thing that can close the holes now tearing through the Veil. I swallow, hard. In the end, it comes down to one thing: getting rid of the Breach before it swallows the world.

I turn back to them, holding my head high. "When I woke up, I certainly didn't picture this outcome."

"Neither did we," Leliana chuckles.

"Help us fix this before it's too late." Cassandra holds out her hand.

My mouth is oddly dry. My stomach is turning circles in my chest. But I don't hesitate.

We shake hands. A silent agreement. A new alliance.

* * *

**(1) Andraste - the prophet whose teachings served as the foundation for the formation of the Chantry; spiritual wife of the Maker, whom the Chantry worships**


	4. The Flat-Ear

**I just want to give a quick shout-out to Autobot Wheeljack on Youtube. Their elf mage walkthrough was actually fairly close to everything my OC would have done, dialogue choices and all, right down to some of the smaller choices. It was the walkthrough I used for most of this. If something didn't match up, which was rarely, it was honestly a pain in the butt to find the right video with dialogue choices I needed. So thank you! You saved me A LOT of searching!**

* * *

4 - The Flat-Ear

"Does it trouble you?"

I look back up from my hand at Cassandra. I hadn't even noticed that she'd seen me eyeing the mark. "If it wasn't enough to close the Breach, what use is it?"

"You did everything we asked of you."

I clench my fist, hiding the blemish. "And it still didn't work."

"What's important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You've given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed — provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place." She sighs. "That is not easy to come by."

She continues on her way to what she's been calling the War room: the room where Chancellor Roderick had been dismissed so crassly by Casssandra. The giant table had been adorned with a map of both Ferelden and Orlais in the hours since.

I laugh under my breath. "What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?"

She holds back a smirk. "Hold on to that sense of humor."

Leliana is already waiting. Two more people stand with her. A man, attractive for a shemlen male, with curly blond hair. And a woman with dark skin and black hair held back in an elegant bun.

"May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces," Cassandra says, pointing to the man.

He shakes his head. "Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through."

Cassandra points to the woman. "This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."

She nods at me. "Andaran atish'an **(1)**."

I start, staring open mouthed at her. "You speak elven?!"

She laughs. "You've heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid."

Either way, it wasn't bad.

"And of course you know Sister Leliana," Cassandra says.

Leliana shifts on her feet. "My position here involves a degree of…"

"She is our spymaster."

"Yes," Leliana sighs. "Tactfully put, Cassandra."

I wonder why they seem to think I need to be put in the middle of all these shemlen dealings. Can't they just…work it all out between themselves and call me back in when the Breach is ready to close?

I look at all of them despite my frustration. "That's…an impressive bunch of titles." Humans and their need for frivolous names.

Cassandra ignores my comment. "I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good."

Leliana steps forward. "Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help."

Cullen grips the sword at his side. "And I disagree. The Templars could serve just as well."

"We need power, Commander," Cassandra adds. "Enough magic poured into that mark—"

"Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—"

Leliana grunts. "Pure speculation."

"_I_ was a Templar. I know what they're capable of."

Josephine, who had been quiet until this moment, sighs. "Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition — and you specifically." She looks at me.

I hadn't been paying too much attention until that point. "That didn't take long," I say.

Cullen shakes his head. "Shouldn't they be busy arguing over who's going to become Divine?" The coy smile on his face puts me at ease just a slight bit.

Josephine ignores him. "Some are calling you — a Dalish elf — the 'Herald of Andraste.' That frightens the Chantry. The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."

"Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt," Cassandra growls.

"It limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question."

My brows furrow together. "Just how am _I_ the 'Herald of Andraste?'" I'm an _elf_, I barely stop myself from screaming.

Cassandra wrings her hands. "People saw what you did at the Temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste."

"Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading —"

Cassandra interrupts Leliana. "Which we have not."

"The point is, everyone is talking about you."

Cullen smirks at me. "It's quite the title, isn't it? How do you feel about it?"

"It's…" I hesitate. "A little unsettling," I answer truthfully.

"I'm sure the Chantry would agree," he says.

"People are desperate for a sign of hope," Leliana begins. "For some, you're that sign."

"And to others," Josephine adds, "a symbol of everything that's gone wrong."

I shake my head in disbelief. "They aren't more concerned about the Breach? The real threat?"

Cullen shrugs. "They do know that it is a threat, they just don't think we can stop it."

"The Chantry is telling everyone that you'll make it worse," Josephine says.

"There is something you can do." Leliana steps forward toward the map on the table. "A Chantry Cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable."

A Chantry Mother asked for me? I picture a woman who looks oddly like Chancellor Roderick in my mind. It doesn't settle well in my stomach. I stare at the map for a long moment. "She's asked for me? You don't think that could be an ambush?"

Leliana shakes her head. "I doubt it. From what I know of her, she is a kind soul and not the sort to involve herself in violence." She taps a small dot above a pawn not far from where Haven is marked. "You'll find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe."

Cullen steps closer to the map as well. "Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you're there."

"We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley," Josephine says, "and you're better suited than anyone to recruit them."

Wait, what? They want _me_ to…

"In the meantime," Cassandra says, "let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald."

Oh, Dread Wolf…

* * *

The next few days pass in what feels a blur. The three advisors use their influence to spread the word of the Inquisition while we wait for Leliana's scouts to clear a path to the Hinterlands. Cassandra is continuing to insist I lead the mission to find Mother Giselle, and she does not budge when I try to convince her she is better suited.

Despite agreeing to stay, I find myself uncomfortable in their world. I am not used to their way of life: bodies constantly moving, buildings bustling with noise. Nature seems so far away when I'm huddled in my small cabin for the night. More than once, I find myself wandering outside, deep in the night, merely to watch the stars move and animals scamper along the frozen lake. Night is my only chance for solitude, for during the day I'm pulled this way and that.

I do not believe that I am the "Herald" that the people in this place believe me to be. But the rumors are never squashed and I'm thrust into the middle of most dealings, front and center. It makes me uneasy.

After the first few days pass, and the newness of it all has finally started to ebb, I let myself wander the town. It is mainly made up of many small cabins, much like the one I've been given, spread out below the Chantry. The entirety of it is surrounded by a great wooden fence. Outside the gates is where the soldiers sleep and train, day and night, just next to the forever frozen lake.

I do not talk to many of the villagers, instead letting them watch me walk by in silence. Too many of them call me "knife-ear" before realizing who I am. But there is one person, out of everyone, I feel myself drawn to.

"So," Varric begins, letting me sit down at his small campfire. "Now that Cassandra's out of earshot, are you holding up all right? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day."

I sigh, huddling close to the fire. The day is nearly ended and the temperature creeping toward uncomfortable. "I have no idea what's happening anymore."

He laughs. "That makes two of us." He slides over, handing me a small cup of warm liquid. One sniff tells me it's elfroot tea. "For days now, we've been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. 'Bad for morale' would be an understatement. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived."

"If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go."

"I like to think I'm as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this…" His face falls, something I rarely see happen, especially for him. "Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there's a hole in the sky. Even I can't walk away and just leave that to sort itself out."

I cannot fault him in that. It was the reason I had agreed to stay as well. "It's pure luck that I escaped."

He laughs. "Good luck or bad?"

I don't answer.

"You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I've written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I've seen that. But the hole in the sky? That's beyond heroes. We're going to need a miracle."

* * *

It takes four days to hear back from the scouts, saying the path is clear.

More often than not, as the sky grows dark, I find myself wandering over to Varric's campfire to listen to his stories. He never tells me which of them are true and which fiction. All I know is sitting there reminds me of home more than anything else. Not even walking past the flat-ear, Solas, on my way to grab more potions. He holds himself too much like a human for me to find any comfort in his presence, so I avoid him as much as possible.

At least, as long as Varric isn't forcing the issue.

"Hey, Chuckles!" he says, waving down the flat-ear as he walks past the fire. "Come join Miss Herald and I in a few drinks."

The flat-ear looks at him for a long moment. His eyes flit to mine. "Some other time, maybe."

"Ah, come on!" He stands, subtly blocking the flat-ear's way. "Let's take a break playing the loner, broody elf and come join in the festivities, shall we? We're all working together now. Might as well warm up to each other."

I know what Varric is doing without even asking. No doubt he's noticed the way my voice trials off when we talk about my life back in the clan, and hopes that conversing with this flat-ear will ease the transition. There is no way he would understand why I don't wish to converse with him. All he _could _see is two elves surrounded by humans. I throw a quick scowl at him before glancing at the flat-ear.

What I see surprises me. Never before have I seen him hesitate. Given, I do not know him well nor do I pretend to understand him. However, the way he usually holds himself hints at confidence. _This_ Solas, the one looking back at me with conflict in his gaze, makes my skin prickle.

"If I must," he says after a moment, inclining his head. Varric walks behind him as if to keep him from slipping away.

I look away from him as he sits across from me, taking a long swig from my tea.

"So, Chuckles, what's the story?" Varric asks.

"Story?"

"_Your_ story."

The flat-ear merely smirks. "There's not much to tell. I'd prefer not to. At least for the moment."

Varric huffs, rolling his eyes with a playful smile on his face.

I chuckle.

The flat-ear inclines his head at me again, something he seems to do a lot. "You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?"

The question catches me off guard. "What do you know of the Dalish?"

"I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion."

_Your people. _I study his face for just a moment. Despite his grayish blue eyes being unpainted by vallaslin, I would never not consider him one of the people, flat-ear or not. "We are both of the same people."

He looks away from me then. "The Dalish I met felt…differently on the subject."

Varric sighs. This, apparently, isn't going like he had hoped. "Can't you elves just play nice for once?"

I frown at him. "I'm playing nice. Honest." I look back at the flat-ear. He still isn't looking at me, eyes focused on something off in the distance. "Not all Dalish feel that way."

His eyes widen in surprise as he looks back at me. "Oh? I am guessing you are referring to yourself."

"Maybe. Being a flat-ear does not make your origin any less than mine."

He actually seems taken aback. "I…" He clears his throat, looking down at the cup in his hand. He stands quite abruptly. "I must go."

He leaves without another word.

Varric whistles quickly. "Well, shit. Why did you have to call him a flat-ear? He seems more 'elf' than even you."

"I…" I stammer, not understanding what he means. "Well, it is what he is." I shake my head to clear it. I reach over and punch his arm. "But put me in that situation again, and I'll light your bed on fire."

Varric laughs, deep and loud. "Oh, I'd like to see you try."

We both laugh until our chests burn with pain.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" he asks once we've gone still.

"Hm?"

"About going to the Hinterlands."

"Oh. That."

"Yes," he chuckles. "That."

"Do you believe this…Mother Giselle will be able to aid us?"

"Eh," he shrugs. "I can't say. I don't think there'll be any harm in asking, at least."

I grip my cup tighter.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asks, voice low.

"Yes. I'll be fine."

Truth is, I am petrified. Cassandra _still_ insists on me leading the way. The fact that she, along with Varric and the flat-ear, will be accompanying me gives me little comfort.

I sigh. "I fear I will mess this up."

"Ah, don't worry. You'll do _fine_." He reaches over and pats me on the shoulder. "You don't see what I see."

"And what is it that you see, Varric?"

He smiles, the same smile he'd given Cassandra when I had first met him. "An elf who doesn't realize just how much power she has." He leans back and takes a deep swig, draining his drink. "Like I said, you'll do fine."

I still can't help but clench my teeth in fear.

That night, I'm too restless to get comfortable in the strange human bed that I've been provided. I long for the sounds of nature around me, the stars shining above. It is very late into the night by the time I give up the struggle, reaching underneath my bed to pull out the bedroll stashed there.

The village is empty, not counting the few guards stationed throughout the area. The two standing next to the gate nod at me as I open the large doors and step out.

I already know where I want to go. I had discovered the secluded dock my first full day in Haven, while I had been looking for herbs for Adan, the alchemist turned healer. My feet carry me as if in a trance, my mind free to wander and fret about the upcoming adventure. I don't even acknowledge the small wooden shack off in the middle of the woods. I merely walk past, through the opening in yet another wooden fence.

I suddenly slam head-first into something solid and fall to the ground in a small heap. Magic bursts in an explosion, burying me in a dusting of snow, and then disappears. I groan, glad at least for the thick padding of snow beneath me, as I sit up and rub at my forehead.

What _was_ that?

"Apologizes. These wards were not meant for you."

I squeal, falling back again. I look up at the man I had not seen nor heard approach. "Oh, it's you," I mumble. Stupid flat-ear.

The flat-ear chuckles. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone, actually."

"Ah." He leans against his staff and holds out his hand. "Well, neither was I. Again, I apologize."

I grunt as I take his hand. He pulls me up with ease.

"May I ask what brings you out this late into the night?"

"I could ask the same of you," I say, a bit harsher than I had intended.

He inclines his head but says nothing.

"I merely wished to sleep under the stars."

He watches me for a moment, eyes searching. Then he smiles. "Ma harel, da'len **(2)**."

That catches me off guard, not only his use of the Elven language, but his calling me a child. It puts me on edge.

"I do not lie to you."

His brows unfurl slightly. He finally leans away from his staff. "I merely meant that something is troubling you. I can see it in your gaze."

A sharp intake of breath hisses through my teeth. Is it so obvious, even to a flat-ear?

"I — I worry about tomorrow. That is all."

"What has you worried?"

"I…" I wring my hands in front of me. "I worry I may mess this up. Cassandra expects so much of me."

"You needn't worry."

"Varric says the same. Why does everyone have such confidence in me?"

He chuckles, the same kind of laugh he'd done after I'd asked if he was apart of the Chantry. "You're the Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all."

I narrow my eyes, pursing my lips.

"You think I'm mocking you." He shakes his head, his mouth turned downward slightly in disappointment. "This age has made people cynical."

I can't help but laugh under my breath. "Am I riding on a shining steed, then?" The question sounds like something that would've come from Varric's mouth, not mine, and it surprises me.

"I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they're extinct." He pauses, though his lips are still set into a small smirk. "Joke as you will, posturing is necessary."

"Oh?"

He turns from me, walking toward the dock jutting out over the lake. "I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten." He looks over his shoulder at me. "Every great war has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

The way he speaks has a pleasant rhythm to it, I notice. I move to stand next to him, curious despite myself. "What do you mean ruins and battlefields?"

He gestures toward the dock just in front of us. There, unnoticed by me before, I see a small fire sparking near the edge and a blanket spread out across the frozen planks. I follow him and sit near the flames, rubbing my hands against the warmth.

"Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen."

I realize my mouth is hanging open and I quickly close it. "I've…never heard of anyone going that deep into the Fade. That's extraordinary."

He pauses in warming his hands against the fire as well. "Thank you. It's not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for anything." He looks at me then, eyes narrow but curious. "Does this subject not frighten you?"

I wonder the same thing, deep in my mind. "I find it…fascinating, to be honest. My Keeper…she never taught me much of the Fade itself. She feared it too greatly." I pause, remembering his comment. _I'm just curious what kind you'll be. _"I hope…to be the kind of hero who makes the world a better place."

"It isn't always that easy…but I wish you luck." He seems to think about something for a moment, his eyes unfocused. "I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed."

Had he planned on leaving? I raise my eyebrows at him.

"I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a Divine mark protecting me." He stands. "Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution."

I suddenly imagine him chained to the floor like I had been, below a clear and brilliant sky, Varric next to him as well. If that image had crossed his mind at all in the last few days, I honestly couldn't blame him for debating on leaving. Mages are much too feared in this world.

"You came here to help, Solas. I won't let them use that against you."

It's the first time I've called him by his name and he doesn't seem to miss this. His eyebrows raise. If he had hair brushing his forehead, they would have easily disappeared in its depths. "How would you stop them?"

I finally push myself up, standing next to him. "However I had to."

Again, I seem to have surprised him. He gives me that same hesitantly curious look. "Thank you."

I shrug. "No mage, apostate or not, should suffer after such a willingness to help."

He starts to turn away, back toward the village. "For now, let us hope either the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the Breach."

"Wait, are you leaving?"

"Yes. I should leave you to sleep."

I watch him walk away, thinking about our conversation about the Fade.

_When I dream in such places…_

I gasp, realizing what he had meant.

"Wait, you fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn't that dangerous?"

He stops, looking over his shoulder. "I _do_ set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live." He waves his hand then, mana pouring from his being. The ward I had ran into earlier springs back to life.

My heart falls as I understand what I had interrupted. "Is that what you were doing, just now? Exploring the Fade?"

"Yes. I, too, find it easier to dream outside the village walls."

I pick up my bedroll. "Then please, continue. I'll find somewhere else to—"

"No."

I look back up. He's facing me once more, a few steps closer than before.

"I have finished all I can for the night. Please, stay. My wards will keep you safe."

I debate with myself for a long moment. I finally set my bedroll back down. "Ma serannas **(3)**." I lean down and unroll the bedding. "You don't have to go. I would not mind listening to some tales about the Fade."

There is no answer. I look up.

He is gone. Despite that, I have no doubt he had heard me.

* * *

**(1) Andaran atish'an - an elven greeting meaning "enter this place in peace"**

**(2) Ma harel, da'len - elvish for "You lie, child"**

**(3) Ma serannas - elvish for "my thanks" or "thank you"**


	5. Doubts

**First off, I want to take a moment to give a shout-out to Faja Lobi (?) on Tumblr (sorry, I don't use Tumblr at all myself and not sure which of the names is the username) for their map they posted of Thedas. They took the time to stretch out the map and calculate the distance between the different locations, both on foot and horseback. I used that to figure out how long it would take to go to the Hinterlands and I'll continue to use it for the rest of the story. So, thank you, whoever you are that made that map!**

* * *

5 - Doubts

"Thank you, Adan. These will be useful."

The old man grunts, but I see the traces of a smile on his lips as I take the potions he offers. I laugh under my breath as I leave, careful to close the door to the cabin behind me to keep out the cold.

"Da'len."

I jump, nearly dropping the bottles not yet stashed in my pouch.

"Solas! I'm sorry, I did not see you there."

He smiles. "That seems to happen quite often to you. Did you sleep well?"

"I — yes. Your wards were more effective than mine could have been. They were never my strong suit."

He chuckles under his breath. "Ah, yes, of course."

Such confidence exudes from him. It's almost annoying. The potions clink together in my pouch as I shove them down, avoiding his gaze.

"Your eyes are tired."

I groan. He doesn't miss a thing. "Yes, a bit."

"Bad dreams?"

My hands shake slightly. He's _too_ observant.

"I shall leave you to pack. I should as well," he says, walking away so I can move from out in front of the door.

The words rush from me. "Fen'Harel **(1)**."

He freezes on the spot, his whole body tense. "What did you say?" he whispers.

"He was in my dreams. Watching me last night. It made me nervous." Am I doing the right thing? Working with this Inquisition? I take a deep breath and shake my head. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to tell you that."

He has relaxed by the time I look back at him. "Do not apologize da'len. And no need to worry. Sometimes, a wolf is merely a wolf and nothing more."

He walks away, leaving me both comforted and confused.

It's a four day journey to the Hinterlands on horseback. Luckily, the Inquisition had acquired a few horses since it had been founded and they are given to us to make our journey easier. Varric moves alongside me, telling stories like usual. Cassandra takes the lead, quiet and stoic. The flat-ear stays a few paces behind us all, as silent as Cassandra.

At night, we set up two tents. Cassandra shares with me but stays quiet the entire night, mumbling quiet prayers to herself. In the mornings, the flat-ear always walks back into camp as if he hadn't bothered to sleep in the tent with Varric and instead camped under the stars.

Varric and I are the only ones who actually talk with any conviction. Cassandra, every once in awhile, may add something to the conversation but her words are always brief. The flat-ear doesn't speak at all.

By the last day, I'm so comfortable talking with Varric that I don't even realize that we have taken the lead until Cassandra stops us.

"By the Maker…" she whispers.

I take a sharp inhale of breath.

Down below, in the valley, hundreds of bodies litter the ground. Sparks of magic fly through the air, bouncing off the shields held up by Templars. Blood is everywhere. Fires burn. Echoes of screams flit up to where we stand. The chaos is so widespread and hectic that it's still easily seen despite the growing darkness.

"This…is bad," I whisper. "I didn't realize the war had gotten this bad between the mages and Templars."

"Well, that's what happens when you isolate yourself from the rest of the world," Varric says, no hint of contempt in his voice. Just fact. I feel a stab of shame despite it.

"I guess."

He sighs. "So here we are, elf, cleaning up another human mess."

I turn to Varric but realize he's looking at the flat-ear, not me.

"What would the Inquisition do without our stabilizing influence, Master Tethras?" the flat-ear says, hint of a smile in his voice.

"I assume they'd just start burning things."

"That does sound like most humans I know."

Cassandra scoffs. "If you gentlemen are quite finished?"

Varric wags his finger at her. "Now, now, don't get touchy. We're just here to lend you simple humans our help."

"Before you cause everything to explode," the flat-ear chuckles.

"Again."

Cassandra shakes her head and leads her horse away as I laugh. I can't help but marvel at Varric's ability to lift my spirits, even in this mess.

"Have I told you that I admire you, Varric?" I ask.

"No, you haven't Herald. But not surprising. I have that affect on people." He winks at me.

"Too bad you're a dwarf," I sigh, feigning sadness. "Otherwise, I would pursue this relationship further."

He laughs before putting a finger up to his lips. "Shh, don't let Bianca hear you say that. She's a very jealous person by nature."

"I'll keep that in mind," I laugh.

Cassandra walks back into view, her horse gone. "If you all are finished, I spotted Leliana's scouts up ahead."

Our laughter stops abruptly. I remind myself to thank Varric later. His words, however jesting, always seem to bring me comfort and confidence. I straighten my shoulders, holding my head high as I follow Cassandra over the hill just beyond where we stood. This is _my_ mission, now.

A pretty dwarven woman with red hair and freckled cheeks greets us as we tie our horses up in the camp. Cassandra lets me take the lead and I try not to look at her as the dwarf crosses her hand over her chest.

"Herald of Andraste," the dwarf says, her voice full of wonder. "I've heard the stories, everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. It's odd for a Dalish elf to care what happens to anyone else, but you'll get no backtalk here, promise." I try not to feel offended at her words as she inclines her head. "Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I, all of us here, will do whatever we can to help."

Varric smirks, apparently no longer able to contain himself. "'Harding,' huh? Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"

She hesitates. "I can't say I have. Why?"

"You'd be Harding in Hi—" he stops when he sees the look on Cassandra's face. "Uh, never mind." **(2)**

Cassandra scoffs.

I try to make my voice hold steady. "I'm starting to worry about all these stories everyone's heard."

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about," Harding laughs. "They only say you're the last great hope for Thedas."

I barely manage to keep my face indifferent. "Oh. Wonderful." The distain still manages to slip into my voice, however.

Harding either doesn't care about the tone of my voice or ignores it. "The Hinterlands are as good as place as any to start…fixing things. We came to secure more horses from Redcliffe's old horse-master…" The wonder on her face taints with sadness. "I grew up here, and people always said Dennet's horses were the strongest, and the fastest, this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn't get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he's even still alive."

"And Mother Giselle?" I ask.

"Mother Giselle's at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there, too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing all they can to protect the people but they won't be able to hold out very long."

Harding walks away then, leaving the four of us in the middle of the camp.

"Should we head to the Crossroads now?" I ask Cassandra.

She hesitates. "Finding Mother Giselle is top priority. However, I do not believe it would be a prudent to leave at this moment. It has grown dark. It would be hard to find our way without getting lost."

Varric shakes his head. "But, Seeker, traveling at night might give us a chance to slip in unnoticed by the mages and Templars."

"Or," the flat-ear adds, "leave us prey for an easy ambush."

Cassandra looks at me. "What do you think we should do?"

I look down at my feet. The wrappings covering them are caked in mud after the four day journey.

"Maybe we should rest for the night. Head out at first light." I try to hold my shoulders back in confidence at my decision. "It's been a long few days. It would do no one any good if we try to rush into battle."

"What of the Revered Mother?" Cassandra asks.

"Let us hope the mages and Templars cannot reach her in the darkness."

She sighs. "All right. I will not disagree with your decision." She sets down her pack. I do the same. "I shall go speak with Scout Harding."

This night, I choose not to sleep in the tent Cassandra sets up for us. I merely roll out my bedding next to the campfire. The flat-ear has disappeared altogether by the time I've dressed and curled up next to the warmth.

I'm not sure how long I've been sleeping when I wake. It is still dark, so I guess it can't have been more than an hour or two. It's quiet, aside from the chirps and squeals of wildlife. It seems even the fighting has quieted some, though I still hear the sounds of swords clanging in the distance.

I bolt upright when I realize the sounds of battle are coming from directly behind me instead of out in the wilderness. I throw off my blanket and spring to my feet, grabbing my staff. But, once standing, I see it's only Cassandra swinging her sword at a practice dummy. I sigh in relief, letting my heart slow.

"I think you need practice dummies made of sturdier stuff."

Cassandra doesn't even flinch. She just looks over her shoulder at me. "That would be nice."

"Like maybe iron."

I think to myself that maybe I've been talking with Varric a little _too_ much. His humor seems to be rubbing off on me.

Cassandra lowers her sword. "Did I do the right thing? What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I revered my whole life. One day, they might write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool. And they may be right."

Suddenly, her persistent prayers every night make sense to me. She doubts what she's done, separating the Inquisition from the Chantry.

"What does your faith tell you?" I say after a moment. It's a question my Keeper had asked me many times when I had come to doubt myself.

She looks at me. "I believe you are innocent. I believe more is going on here than we can see. And I believe no one else cares to do anything about it." She rolls back her shoulders, readying her stance once again as she lifts her sword. "They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot. But is this the Maker's will? I can only guess."

This takes me slightly by surprise. "You don't think I'm the Herald of Andraste?"

Her voice is quite steady despite the large swings she takes at the dummy. "I think you were sent to help us. I hope you were. But the Maker's help takes many forms. Sometimes it's difficult to discern who it truly benefits, or how."

"What's going to happen now?"

"Now we deal with the Chantry's panic over you before they do even more harm. Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can. After that, we find out who is responsible for this chaos, and we end them. And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high."

I watch her swing her sword at the dummy for a few moments. "You didn't have any choice."

She goes still again. "Didn't I?" She lowers her sword to her side. "My trainers always said, 'Cassandra you are too brash. You must think before you act.' I see what must be done and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail." She looks at me over her shoulder. "But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again."

Now that some time has passed since I was locked in that cell, I cannot find reason to blame her for her actions. If it had been _my_ clan… "It wasn't like you had no reason to suspect me."

"I was determined to have someone answer for what happened. Anyone." She starts to walk away, back toward her tent, but stops. "You've said you don't believe you're chosen. Does that mean… you also don't believe in the Maker?"

The question makes me raise my eyebrows. "I'm Dalish." Why do people seem to keep forgetting? "I believe in our own gods."

"And there's no room among your gods for one more?" She hesitates, seeming to rethink her words. "I suppose it doesn't matter now. I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason, even if you do not. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us."

She doesn't say another word, disappearing into her tent.

I stand on the spot for a long few minutes, thinking about her question. _Why_ do these humans insist I try to believe in one of their gods but don't bat an eye at mine? Can't I just do this task they've set on me and still be me? I sigh and turn back toward the fire. As I curl up, I see the flat-ear's staff disappear behind a tree just outside of camp. He does not return.

* * *

**(1) Fen'Harel - the elven god of betrayal who sealed the old elven gods away from the mortal realm; also known as the "Dread Wolf." Considered an evil god; those who worship him do so to merely "appease" him and keep him from causing trouble in their clan**

**(2) Quick note to reader from me: Varric is an author and one of his crime novels is called "Hard in Hightown"**


	6. Mother Giselle

6 - Mother Giselle

The fighting is just as bad in the morning.

No matter where we turn, mages and Templars are locked in battle. Sometimes it's on a long stretch of road. Sometimes in a dark crevasse of a mountaintop where escape for either side is impossible. They are senseless, attacking without hesitation anyone who crosses their path.

"The mages and the Templars chose a poor location for working out their differences," the flat-ear says when we finally reach the Crossroads.

"Mages and Templars, and innocent people caught in the middle. Some things never change," Varric adds.

We all move forward, Cassandra leading the way with her shield raised. Varric walks closely behind her, I behind him. The flat-ear stays even farther behind, his staff held ready.

"Halt!" Cassandra yells when a group Templars run for us. "We are not apostates!"

"I don't think they care, Seeker," Varric grunts, letting an arrow fly at one of them trying to flank her.

I raise my staff, letting my mana pour from me. Lightning dashes in and out between the charging Templars, striking them but seeming to do little damage. I grunt in frustration, pushing harder at the mana floating around me. But it is as if something is keeping me from manipulating my mana. It struggles against me and takes more effort than normal to cast the simplest of spells.

Sweat has beaded across my forehead by the time Cassandra knocks back the last of the group. I breathe heavily, letting her and Varric walk slowly forward a few paces while I try to steady myself.

"I take it you have never battled a Templar before."

I shake my head at the flat-ear. "We…never had reason to."

Varric and Cassandra have come back.

"Are you all right, Herald?" Cassandra asks.

"She just needs time to recover," the flat-ear answers. "It will take practice for her to understand how best to battle with a Templar."

"What is it like when Templars nullify magic, Solas?" Cassandra asks him.

Normally, the fact they talk over me as if I'm not there would have angered me. But I appreciate the moment and take deep, steadying breaths.

"It is as though you are drawing upon the world around us. Mages draw forth the essence of the Fade, and use that essence to shape reality."

"And our powers drive it back, making this world harder to affect?"

"In a manner of speaking. You reinforce reality so it's less mutable. The Fade has nowhere to gain a foothold, and the magic disperses."

I straighten to see a look of confused flattery on her face. "No one has ever accused me of reinforcing reality before."

"You _are_ a Seeker of Truth." He turns to me. "Have you recovered?"

"Yes. I should be fine, now."

"Good," Cassandra says. "We should push through before they have a chance to reach Mother Giselle."

The flat-ear steps in front of me as Cassandra and Varric walk ahead. "You may use some of my magic during battle, if you wish."

"I—" I raise my eyebrows at him. "Wait, you can do that?"

"Yes." He narrows his eyes. "You did not know?"

I shake my head. "Our Keeper did not like us to use magic unless it was necessary. There is still much I don't know." The disappointment in my voice is so thick that I know he must hear it.

He says nothing for a moment. He looks over at Cassandra and Varric, who have stopped at a fork in the road to wait for us. "Then I shall feed you some of my mana when we encounter another Templar. At least until you find your bearings against them."

"T-thank you," I stammer.

He motions for me to lead.

The next group we encounter are some of the rebel mages. One look at us and they don't hesitate, throwing ice and fire like bullets.

"Look at this. The apostates have gone mad with power," Cassandra says.

Varric grunts. "The Templars aren't looking any better here."

They fall quickly under Cassandra's power. She negates their magic, just as the Templars had done to me.

The flat-ear sneers once things grow quiet, shifting his weight onto his staff. "Such an irresponsible use of magic. The mages here are little more than animals."

I can't help but agree. The way the rebel mages are behaving, using their magic to maim and kill without thought, makes me feel as if the people of Thedas have good reason to fear us.

We push through, fighting only those who show hostility, which proves to be everyone. No one asks questions when we approach, merely attacks.

The first time the flat-ear helps me against the Templars, the rush of mana flowing over me makes me gasp in surprise. But the Templars drain the magic from the air so fast that it balances out fairly quickly, letting me cast like normal. Cassandra is still the powerhouse, slamming into them, pushing them to the ground like nothing. Despite this, I'm tired. I'm not used to casting this much, especially in such a short amount of time.

I look back at the flat-ear, who is standing closer than I expect. "I am not accustomed to fighting, so… Thank you. That helped."

His smile is small, but enough I catch it before he turns away.

Finally, after hours of clearing the Crossroads of the fighting, the Inquisition scouts move in, securing the area. Refugees pour out of the houses where they'd been hiding. Wounded are laid out to be cared for by both healers and mages not apart of the fighting. The flat-ear disappears to help one of the mages wounded in the battle.

I follow Cassandra up a small hill to where a Chantry Mother tends to a wounded solider. She steps back to let me take charge as we get closer.

"There are mages here who can heal your wounds," the Mother says to the man. "Lie still."

The soldier shies away from the mage next to her. "Don't…" he writhes in pain, "let them touch me, Mother. Their magic…"

"Turned to noble purpose," she interrupts. "Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade."

"But…" he stammers.

"Hush, dear boy. Allow them to ease your suffering."

He finally gives up and lies back, letting the mage approach him.

I step forward. "Mother Giselle?"

She stands up from next to the soldier. She has a kind face. Her full lips are set in a permanent pout, her dark skin crinkled with age. All but her face is hidden beneath her Chantry robes and hood. Despite the warmth in her eyes, I cannot help but see Chancellor Roderick in her stead.

"I am. And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

I shrug. "Not through any choice of mine."

"We seldom have much say in our fate, I'm sad to say."

"So you agree with them?"

"I don't presume to know the Maker's intentions for any of us." She shakes her head. "But I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me."

"Then why am I here?"

She starts walking away from the wounded, toward the other side of the small hilltop. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it. I won't lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…"

I frown at her. "And that's an excuse? They're making things worse." We should all be working together to contain the Breach. Not squabbling over something as frivolous as politics.

"They don't know that. This is my point. Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe."

"They want to execute me, and you think I should just walk up to them?" This shemlen is completely insane.

"You are no longer alone. They cannot imprison or attack you."

I shake my head, holding back the frustration in my stomach. "They could try."

She pauses for a moment, thinking. "Let me put it this way: you needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to _doubt_. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

"You make it sound simple."

"I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us… But I _hope_. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us…or destroy us."

So many people seem intent on me being the driving power behind this Inquisition. Why can't they just let me help close the Breach and then leave me be?

She looks away from me, down at the Inquisition scouts and soldiers who have gathered to help the refugees. "I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can."

She leaves without a second glance.

I look at Cassandra. "Did that go well?"

"As well as it could have." She nods at me. "These kinds of things will take practice. You did well."

"I _still_ don't understand why I must lead in these talks. You would do a much better job."

Varric appears then, laughing. "But you're the _Herald_. You don't understand what kind of power that gives you."

"Does it though? No matter what, I will never be more than an elf to most." I look at the flat-ear, who seems to have been listening from the shadows. "Am I right?"

He says nothing, which I take as silent agreement.

Cassandra sighs. "We shall see."

I look out at all the people scattered around us. People flit in and out of houses. Walk up and down the roads. Some have started selling goods.

Shemlen or not, no one deserves to suffer like this.

"Let's go see what we can do to help these people," I say.

No one argues.

We work endlessly to help ease the troubles at the Crossroads. We bring in meat to keep them from starving, help find warm clothes and blankets to keep them warm before the next snow falls. By the time we head back toward our own camp, night has fallen.

"Tomorrow, we should help clear out the rogue Templars and rebel mages from the area," Cassandra suggests as we set down our things. "It would make the roads safer for the refugees."

I do not disagree. Varric nods his head in approval and the flat-ear says nothing.

The four of us eat and drink in silence around the fire. Even Varric seems to be holding his tongue in favor of going to bed early.

When I curl up under the stars, the only sounds I hear are the chirping of the birds in the trees.


	7. Why Not?

7 - Why Not?

"I sense magical energies ahead. The mages cannot be far."

I nod at the flat-ear. I can feel them too. The mana in the air stirs and pulses in a way that sings with power.

Cassandra nods, taking the lead, Varric close behind her.

The deeper into the Witchwood we get, the more touches of magic we see. Towers of ice crystals litter the forest floor. Some hover over us. One holds a Templar frozen with a look of shock and pain on his face. He has long since passed into the void.

"They _are_ animals," I mutter under my breath.

The flat-ear hums an agreement.

It doesn't take long to find their stronghold. Cassandra charges toward them, bending the mana in the air so the mages cannot cast. It doesn't take long for them to realize they are being overrun and quickly retreat into a large cave, sealing the entrance with a ward.

I growl in frustration, throwing my staff to my side. I look back at the flat-ear. "Would you help me? Wards—"

"Are not your strong suit. Yes, I remember." He steps forward without hesitation.

We both push at the mana flowing outward from the ward. With the flat-ear's talent, it falls rather easily. The mages inside scream in both anger and fear. Cassandra pushes past us to lead the assault.

I find that battling fellow mages is much easier than I had expected, especially in comparison to the Templars. Their personal wards are torn down easily by the flat-ear, leaving them easy prey to Cassandra's blade, Varric's arrows, and my lightning.

When the last have been cleared, Cassandra smiles in victory.

"This will make the roads safer for travelers," she says.

"Now we just need to take on the Templars," Varric adds.

I grimace. Apprehension floods my veins. Battling the Templars the day before had not been easy, even with the flat-ear's help.

"Yes," Cassandra sighs. "Let's head for the Western Road, then."

I find myself hovering near the flat-ear as we near their encampment. My whole body shivers with unease. He must notice because he lets his mana pour over me even though we have not yet gotten close enough to them to battle.

"Mala suledin nadas **(1)**, da'len," he whispers, just quiet enough for Cassandra and Varric not to hear. "Do not fear. My wards will keep you safe from harm."

I merely nod at him, not trusting the food churning uncomfortably in my stomach.

He does not disappoint once we enter battle. The wards he places upon me are strong, arrows that fly toward me merely falling to the ground when they come close. But I notice he grows careless with his own wards in my stead, and I stand closer to him to drive away the attacks that slip passed Cassandra.

This fight is long but the flat-ear does not let the Templars drain my magic, just as he promised he would. Despite this, by the time the encampment is empty, my forehead is drenched in sweat and my body drained.

Cassandra passes around potions to help us recover. "Our job here is done, for the time being. We should head back to Haven to prepare for the visit to Val Royeaux."

"Agreed," I say, nodding. "I'm done with this place."

* * *

We gather around the campfire for one last night before heading back to Haven. Cassandra heads to her tent early, while Varric hands a drink to me.

"We should celebrate helping these people," he says when I try to turn the drink away.

I sigh in defeat, taking it.

"Hey, Solas," he says, not bothering to look over his shoulder toward where the flat-ear sits alone. "Care to join us? Or are you going to brood over there by yourself?"

The flat-ear stands. "I can if you wish."

Varric holds out a drink for him. He doesn't hesitate to take it and sit at the fire with us.

The more Varric drinks, the more elaborate his stories become. I do not drink as much as he does, preferring to sip at the dwarven alcohol instead. The flat-ear does the same.

Varric finally goes quiet, just before the drink takes him too far. He leans back against the bench behind him and smiles pleasantly at the embers in the air.

I look at the flat-ear. "May I ask you some questions about yourself?"

The flat-ear pauses, cup halfway to his mouth. "Why?"

"Why not?"

His mouth turns down slightly. "Privacy? Caution? Concern about the direction of this Inquisition once our work is done?"

I frown back at him. "You're an elven mage. Not from the Circle, not Dalish. You're an unknown element. I wouldn't trust my life to a blade before I'd tested its balance." I try not to think about the fact I had already put my life in his hands against the Templars.

He says nothing.

My stomach turns in frustration. Flat-ears can be so hard to deal with sometimes. "Then don't tell me. I wasn't asking as part of the Inquisition."

Varric stares at the two of us, mouth slightly open.

The flat-ear lowers his drink. "I am sorry. With so much fear in the air…what would you know of me?"

I think for a long moment, debating on questions about the Fade or about him. I decide on the safest question.

"Have you always traveled and studied alone?"

"Not at all. I have built many lasting friendships. Spirits of Wisdom, possessed of ancient knowledge, happy to share what they had seen. Spirits of Purpose helped me search. Even wisps, curious and playful, would point out treasures I might have missed."

I frown. "I…don't know any spirits by those names." Just how much had my Keeper kept from me?

"They rarely seek this world. When they do, their natures do not often survive exposure to the people they encounter. Wisdom and Purpose are too easily twisted to Pride and Desire."

Those names I _have_ heard. "You're saying that you became friends with Pride and Desire _demons_?"

He shrugs. "They were not demons for me."

"Meaning?" I ask when he does not elaborate.

"The Fade reflects the minds of the living. If you expect a spirit of Wisdom to be a Pride demon, it will adapt. And if your mind is free of corrupting influences? If you understand the nature of the spirit? They can be fast friends." His voice displays the happiness his face tries to hide.

Varric seems as enthralled as I am, albeit a little wary.

"You trust these spirits not to possess you the first time you accidentally make a wish?" I ask, amazed.

The flat-ear scowls at me. "Do you not trust your friends not to turn on you?"

I hesitate. "Well, yes, but they're people."

He shakes his head. "Ah, of course." His eyes burn with anger.

"You…you know what I mean," I stammer.

"Are people only people because they are flesh and blood?" He motions toward Cassandra's tent. "Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?"

"Hey, leave me out of this," Varric mutters.

We go quiet. He does not leave, as I expect him to. The tension is palpable and I know Varric is drinking it in for later.

Just how much did my Keeper keep from me during my lessons? This flat-ear — Solas — has gone farther into the Fade than my Keeper ever wanted me to. _Feared_ I would want to. And yet here he sits, whole, friends with spirits who teach him much about the world around him.

I suddenly feel ashamed at myself.

"I…I am sorry," I say. "I did not mean to offend."

The flat-ear says nothing.

"You…have an interesting way of looking at the world, Solas."

Again, he seems taken aback at me using his name. "I try…and that isn't quite an answer."

"I look forward to helping you make new friends," I say, after a moment of silence. "Maybe I could look for some of my own."

"That should be…well."

I smile at him. "That…isn't quite an answer, either."

His ears go pink.

Varric coughs into his hand. I glower at his smirking face.

I take another sip of my drink, avoiding the flat-ear's gaze, which I can feel burning into the side of my face.

"I can help you with your wards," he says after a moment. "And, if you wish, I could teach you more about the Fade."

I nearly choke on the liquid, just barely managing not to suck in a large amount into my lungs. "You—you would do that?"

"If you wish."

The offer makes me doubt my thoughts about him. What flat-ear would offer that help and knowledge to a Dalish?

"I…would very much like that."

Varric coughs again. I ignore him.

"What made you start studying the Fade?"

Solas finishes the last of his drink. "A story for tomorrow, perhaps." The amusement in his eyes tells me he is not avoiding the subject. "We should rest."

He leaves without another word, disappearing into the trees.

Varric whistles. "See, Herald? More elf than you realize." He grunts as he stands to his feet. "He isn't wrong, though. We should get some sleep."

* * *

Cassandra is the first to wake. I know because she walks around the camp, yelling at everyone to wake up so we can leave for Haven.

"The longer we wait, the longer it will take to get to Val Royeaux," she shouts.

"Ugh, come on Seeker, have a little patience," Varric groans.

"Just because _you_ chose to stay up drinking does _not_ mean we should hold off on our departure."

I laugh as I roll up my bedding. Varric throws a scathing look at me.

It takes Varric a few minutes to take down his tent and pack, and then we make our way back across the Frostbacks.

"So, Solas," I start.

He interrupts me. "Before you start asking questions, let us work out the details of this arrangement."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"You must first cast a ward. If I deem it acceptable, I'll answer one of your questions."

Varric laughs. "Oh, this'll be good."

"W-what?! That's ridiculous!" I squeal. "That's not what we agreed on!"

The flat-ear merely smiles at me over his shoulder. "Think of it as…incentive."

I scowl at him, sticking out my tongue.

He laughs, the deepest and loudest laugh from him so far. "Come, da'len. It is not a difficult request."

I don't miss the look of confusion Cassandra throws at Varric. He quickly quiets her.

"I want to see this, Seeker," Varric whispers.

I groan in frustration. "_You_ offered to help _me_, may I remind you."

"That I did. But that does not mean I shall give out my knowledge without first expecting you to show effort on your part."

I roll my eyes. "Fine."

I reach out, concentrating on the mana around me, forming the spell with my hands. I do not need to look to know the ward is weak.

Solas smiles. "See?"

"Really?!" I gesture toward the lingering ward. "Can't you see how weak it is?"

His mouth twitches. "I do. However, it is weak merely because you believe it will be so. The Fade can only be what we make of it."

I throw him my best death glare.

He chuckles. "Now, what was your question?"

I hesitate. "But, my ward was weak," I whisper.

"But, acceptable."

We ride in silence for a long moment, my mind foggy with confusion. I finally clear my head and think of a question.

"You said you traveled to many different places."

He doesn't say anything right away. He merely stares at the head of his horse, bobbing up and down with its steps. He clears his throat. "This world, or its memory, is reflected in the Fade. Dream in ancient ruins, and you may see a city lost to history. Some of my fondest memories were found in crumbling cities long picked dry by treasure seekers. The best are the battlefields. Spirits press so tightly on the Veil that you can slip across with but a thought."

"Any place in particular?"

He smiles at me, eyebrows raised.

I huff, raising my hand once more, concentrating on my mana. I try to picture a stronger ward this time.

He inclines his head. "Better. I dreamt at Ostagar. I witnessed the brutality of the dark spawn and the valor of the Ferelden warriors. I saw King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden light the signal fire…and Loghain's infamous betrayal of Cailan's forces." **(2)**

Even Varric seems to be drinking it all in.

"I've heard the stories," I say. "It would be interesting to hear what it was really like."

"That's just it. In the Fade, I see reflections created by spirits who react to the emotions of the warriors. One moment, I see heroic Wardens lighting the fire and a power-mad villain sneering as he lets King Cailan fall. The next, I see an army overwhelmed and a veteran commander refusing to let more soldiers die in a lost cause."

I don't wait for his instruction this time, letting the ward form around me before I speak. "And you can't tell which is real?"

"It is the Fade. They are all real."

It continues like that the entire way back to Haven. I cast a ward and, in return, he answers one of my questions, focusing on the details of Ostagar. Varric silently takes notes on a piece of parchment, no doubt for future stories to tell. Even Cassandra seems interested in spite of herself.

Once I have picked his brain dry of details, he concentrates on my wards, encouraging me with words that Varric nor Cassandra understand. At night, he demonstrates his own prowess with wards so I can ponder on his technique while I sleep, ready to try fresh in the morning.

"You are getting quite proficient at this," Solas says on our last day. "That one would have protected you from most harm."

I smile at him.

"Finally," Cassandra moans. "We are here. Thank the Maker."

"Ah, come on, Seeker," Varric says, winking. "You have to admit, this _has_ been interesting to watch."

She doesn't answer.

The guards open the gates to Haven when they see us approaching. They salute to Cassandra and then bow to me. It's less unsettling than I expect.

"Ma serannas, hahren **(3)**."

My words catch Solas off guard. He pauses in his path down the road leading toward his cabin.

"For the lessons. And the stories," I add.

"Hm." He says nothing more and walks away.

* * *

**(1) Mala suledin nadas - elvish for "Now you must endure"**

**(2) - Events that took place in the first Dragon Age game; if you wish to refresh yourself of the events, or never played the first game yourself, I recommend venturing over to the Dragon Age wiki page and searching for "Battle of Ostagar" - I would post a link but the DocManager won't let me :(**

**(3) hahren - elvish for "elder;" a term of respect used among the Dalish**


	8. Breeches

**I want to take a moment to thank the kind stranger who left a review. Thank you! Writing is definitely my passion and I do have my moments when that's apparent XD**

**Also, this was one of the hardest chapters for me to write. It was a LOT of dialogue, most of which I cut out. So I feel like this chapter is fairly slow. I may or may not post the next chapter along with this to help make up for that... maybe lol**

* * *

8 - Breeches

We set out for Val Royeaux two days later, after Leliana has a chance to send word ahead to the clerics that we want to speak with them. To speed up the process, she uses birds to send the message so it'll arrive long before us. The journey is longer than it had been to the Hinterlands, a straight week on the back of a horse. We ride in silence during the day, using our energy to move as fast as possible. At night, we huddle around the campfire, trading stories.

Cassandra finally starts to open up to us, telling of her upbringing in a Nevarran royal family. How she came to despise the way her family treated her and longed for something with more meaning. How she saved Divine Beatrix III — predecessor to Divine Justinia — in an attempt on her life and was rewarded with the post of Right Hand of the Divine. It's a tale she tells quite reluctantly, mainly because it has been told so many times she "does not recognize myself in it."

Varric talks of his travels with the Champion of Kirkwall, something that hits closer to home for me since our clan mostly wandered the Free Marches. He tells of his travels into the deep roads and how his brother had found an idol made of red lyrium that eventually drove him insane. He tells me about the man they had considered a friend who started the mage-Templar war by blowing up the Chantry, and the betrayal they all felt afterwards.

Solas is the most hesitant to tell stories, at least when Cassandra is awake. He tells us about his friends in the Fade, especially of Wisdom. It is rather ironic, I can't help thinking, that a man whose name means Pride has befriended a spirit of Wisdom. Sometimes, while we ride during the day, he'll bring his horse close to mine and add to a story he had started the night before, something he doesn't think Varric would appreciate. Or, at least, stories he doesn't want Varric to repeat.

I tell them of my life before the Conclave. How I was the First to our Keeper. How we wandered the land, gathering and selling goods to human villages, at least whenever they would let us near. I don't have much to say about my training days because, in hindsight, they were short. I long for the knowledge my Keeper never provided me with.

"What about your days as a kid?" Varric asks.

"I…I do not remember much of them. They were not eventful."

"When did you come into your magic?" Cassandra asks.

I cannot answer.

When I tell my stories, Cassandra surprises me by gathering parts of my hair into a long braid and wrapping it around my head, much like her own. I wonder to myself, considering her hair is cropped just above her ears, if the braid wrapped around her own head is fake. It _has_ to be, I decide, since even my hair wraps only twice around my head.

"Your hair is so beautiful," she says under her breath, accidentally cutting across something Varric was saying. I feel her fingers run through the portion left to hang underneath the braid. "It is like the color of raven wings in the sunlight. Is all elven hair so beautiful, I wonder?"

"No," Solas answers without hesitation.

I do not understand the look Varric gives him, nor the smile on Cassandra's face in response. It isn't long after that when the flat-ear leaves, making me feel as if I've missed something important in their gazes.

When we finally near Val Royeaux, I find myself already wishing for the return journey. I have enjoyed the prolonged travel with the three of them more than I expected.

Val Royeaux is _massive_. It's all towering stone walls and turrets, walkways and hidden doorways. The people are strange as well, dressed in frilly clothes that make their shoulders seem tall and wide. Some of the dresses on the woman plunge low on their necklines, exposing more skin than I would ever be comfortable displaying. Ruffles around their necks obscure their chins, along with delicately painted masks that hide their eyes. But despite the grandeur of it all, there is a subtle sadness to the way the people hold themselves as we near the city.

"The city still mourns," Cassandra says.

As we near the city gates, a woman walking along the bridge looks at me. Her eyes, barely seen behind her mask, widen in fear. She squeals as she takes a few steps away from me. My chest burns in response.

Cassandra and Varric keep moving despite my hesitation.

"Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are," Varric whispers just loud enough to hear.

"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric."

A woman runs up to us then, an Inquisition scout by her hood. "My lady Herald," she says. I try not to flush when she takes a knee, turning her head down.

"You're one of Leliana's people," Cassandra says. "What have you found?"

"The Chantry Mothers await you, but…so do a great many Templars."

Cassandra hesitates. "There are Templars here?" Her voice barely contains her surprise.

"People seem to think the Templars will protect them from…from the Inquisition. They're gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the Templars intend to meet you."

Cassandra sets her shoulders back. "Only one thing to do, then." She starts walking forward. She scoffs under her breath. "They wish to protect the people? From _us_?"

"Protect them from the blasphemous Herald of Andraste, I'd say." I rub my hands together to push out the tension in my fingers.

The scout gasps. "Surely they cannot think such a thing!"

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Why not? They wouldn't be the only ones."

Varric inclines his head. "You think the Order's returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?"

"I _know_ Lord Seeker Lucius. I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defense, not after all that's occurred." Cassandra is so sure in her statement, it shows in her shoulders.

Cullen had been adamant that we try to recruit the Templars, I remember. "We're doing all this to get help with the Breach. Maybe this is our chance to get the Templars on our side."

Cassandra contemplates this for a moment. "Perhaps." She shakes her head and then turns back to the scout. "Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are…delayed."

I clench my fists, holding back the fear that floods into me at her words.

The scout nods. "As you say, my Lady."

* * *

Varric sighs once the retreating Templars are out of earshot. "Charming fellow, isn't he?"

Cassandra looks dumbfounded. "Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?"

I shake away the unease settling in my stomach. None of this had gone has planned. The Sisters had preached to the crowd about our heresy. Then the Templars swooped in and silenced them, only to denounce us as well. It feels as if this entire trip has been nothing but a giant waste of time.

"Do you know him very well?" I ask.

It takes longer for her to compose herself than usual. "He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death. He was always…" her voice wavers, "a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding. This is very bizarre."

I sigh, although it is more out of relief than frustration. "It doesn't look like we'll be getting the Templars to help us after all." Cullen will be disappointed.

"I wouldn't write them off so quickly," Cassandra says. "There must be those in the Order who see what he's become. Either way, we should first return to Haven and inform the others."

"Agreed," Varric mutters.

I can't help but think to myself that this was a very short trip for such a long journey.

We take only a few steps when something flies through the air, lodging in the ground at my feet.

"What's that?" Cassandra gasps. "An arrow with a message?"

I pick it up and unfold the parchment hanging from the shaft of the arrow.

_People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone._

_ There's a baddie in Val Royeaus. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords._

_ Friends of Red Jenny_

Below, there is a very poor drawing of the locations listed in the letter. Everything is surrounded in doodles. They look like pants.

"What does it say?" Cassandra asks.

I hand it to her. I look back toward the Sister laying on the ground, where she had fallen after being struck by the Templars. The Sister is stirring, grabbing at the place on her head where the blow had hit.

"We should check on her," I say, nodding in her direction.

"Are you sure?" Varric asks. "She wasn't exactly…subtle with you."

"No one deserves to be blind sided like that."

"What about this?" Cassandra asks, holding up the letter. Varric jumps up and takes it from her hand, which makes me laugh shortly under my breath.

"We'll take care of that once we've checked in on her," I say.

The Sister grunts in pain when we approach. She looks at Cassandra and shakes her head. "This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra."

"We came here seeking only to speak with the Mothers. This is not our doing, but yours."

"And you had no part in forcing our hands? Do not delude yourself. Now we have been shown up by our own Templars, in front of everyone. And my fellow Clerics have scattered to the wind, along with their convictions." The Sister looks at me then. "Just tell me one thing: if you do not believe you are the Maker's chosen, then what are you?"

I ponder this for a moment. Who am I? Am I an elf, forcibly pulled into this madness? Am I someone grasping for the power denied my people for years, as many probably believe? Maybe a bit of both?

I sigh. "Someone who can help close the Breach and end this madness." It's all I've wanted during this whole ordeal.

The Sister pauses. "That is…more comforting than you might imagine." She moans in pain. "I suppose it is out of our hands now. We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come."

I nod my head at Cassandra. She understands and takes over, questioning her about the Templars motives and the Chantry's denouncement. I take a deep breath, settling my nerves, and take the opportunity to sit down and rest. I feel drained.

Mythal, what have I gotten myself into?

* * *

"If I might have a moment of your time."

The woman who stops us as we head toward the main gates is a flat-ear wearing mage robes. Her green eyes are bright, her short dark hair slicked back with utmost care. Her fair skin is just barely starting to show hints of her age.

Cassandra stares at her for a long moment, her eyes growing wide. "Grand Enchanter Fiona?"

Solas looks closer at her as well. "Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?"

_This_ catches my attention. Wouldn't the leader of the rebellion have been at the Conclave? Considering the point of it was to negotiate peace between the mages and Templars?

The flat-ear Fiona looks at me. "I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes. If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages."

"I'm…surprised the leader of the mages wasn't at the Conclave," I say.

Cassandra's eyes narrow. "Yes. You were supposed to be, and yet somehow you avoided death."

The flat-ear doesn't miss the accusatory tone in Cassandra's voice. "As did the Lord Seeker, you'll note. Both of us sent negotiators in our stead, in case it was a trap." Her eyes droop down in sadness. "I won't pretend I'm not glad to live. I lost many dear friends that day." Her lips curl back, the brightness of her eyes dimming. "It disgusts me to think the Templars will get away with it. I'm hoping you won't let them."

"So you think the Templars are responsible," I ask.

Cassandra rolls her eyes. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Lucius hardly seems broken up over his loses," Fiona says, shaking her head, "if he's concerned about them at all. You heard him. You think he wouldn't happily kill the Divine to turn people against us?" She shrugs. "So, yes, I think he did it. More than I think you did it, at any rate."

I glance back at Cassandra before speaking. "Does that mean the mages will help us?"

"We're willing to discuss it with the Inquisition, at least. Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all." She smiles. "I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my Lady Herald."

Cassandra watches her leave with suspicion in her eyes. "Come. Let us go."

* * *

"Are you sure this is where the clues told us to be?" I look back at Varric, who is holding the three notes we found hidden among red handkerchiefs scattered around Val Royeaux.

"Yes, of course!" he says. "It wasn't _that_ hard to decipher."

Cassandra moans. "We need to be careful. It may be an ambush."

I sigh. "I feel like the potential for ambushes is unavoidable. Might as well get it over with."

Varric laughs. Voices then pick up in the distance.

"Good job, Varric," Cassandra whispers.

We march forward and are immediately attacked. We fight back without hesitation but there are only a couple men. They fall easily under us.

"See?" Cassandra says, her eyes dark.

I lead the way through a door at the end of the alleyway.

Fire brushes past my face and I gasp, swinging my head out of the way and barely avoiding it.

"Herald of Andraste!"

I look toward where the fire came. A man is standing there, face — as always in Val Royeaux — obscured by a ridiculous mask.

"How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"

Was this the guy who sent the note? Or the "baddie" the note mentioned?

"I…don't know who you are," I say, my voice staggering in confusion.

He laughs. "You don't fool me! I'm too important for this to be an accident!" He does a lot of flourishing, I notice. Waving his hands and throwing his head up. "My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!"

One of his guards behind him groans. We all turn in time to see the man fall to the ground, dead. A flat-ear girl stands where he was, bow drawn.

"Just say 'what!'" she yells.

The man huffs. "What is the—"

His chokes on the arrow now sprouting from his face. I jump back, placing a hand over my mouth.

"Eww!" the flat-ear gags. "Squishy one, but you heard me, right?" The flat-ear walks toward us. "'Just say "what."' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve." She bends over the man, grabbing an end of the arrow. "'Blah, blah, blah!'" She yanks it free. "'Obey me! Arrow in my face!'"

The four of us stare open mouthed at the flat-ear as she walks back to us.

"So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're…" She looks at me then, _really _looks at me. Her face falls. "Aaaaand, you're an elf. Well, hope you're not 'too elfy.'" And now she's smiling, shaking her head this way and that. "I mean, it's all good, innit? The important thing is: you glow? You're the Herald thingy?"

I take a moment to study her. Her straw-blonde hair is messily cropped around her face, her bangs short and uneven. Her hazel eyes are wide-set and bright with childish delight. Her clothes are hastily patched.

I then swallow, trying to think past the apparent joy she got at shooting that man in the face. "I…some believe I'm the Herald of Andraste." I shake my head. "But who are you, and what's this about?" I gesture to the man at our feet.

She looks down. "No idea, I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

My mind is fogged with confusion. "Your people? Elves?"

She laughs, snorting wildly. "No. _People_ people. Name's Sera." She points to some boxes stacked just next to us. "This is cover. Get 'round it."

I raise my eyebrows at her. I hear Varric sighing behind me.

"For the reinforcements," she says. "Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed." Her eyes open in childish delight. "They've got no breeches."

No...breeches?

Then we hear them. The four of us, and the newest flat-ear, dive behind the boxes as men pour into the alley.

The flat-ear is extremely proficient with her bow. She takes down more men than the four of us combined. And, I can't help but notice, none of them are wearing pants, just as she said. I don't know whether to laugh or shy away as I sling lightning at them.

"Oh, right in the plums!" I hear her say.

Varric loses it for half a second, his laugh ringing through the air.

"Why didn't you take their weapons?" Cassandra yells mid swing.

"Because no breeches!" She laughs hysterically.


	9. Chuckles

**Yeah, I decided to post this. Would've done it yesterday but I was out of the house most of the day so...**

**I really liked this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!**

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9 - Chuckles

Next day, Cassandra makes me attend a "Salon," whatever shemlen event that is, that I was invited to by a "First Enchanter Vivienne." I really don't want to go, longing for the stretch of wilds between Val Royeaux and Haven, but Cassandra insists.

"She may have contacts with the mages," is her argument.

The First Enchanter puts me on edge, not because of hostility but because of the way she holds herself. She is refined, speaks with purpose. In no way can I feel comfortable in her presence, mainly because I have the sneaking feeling that my ears will become an issue at some point. But I do not turn her down when she offers to join the Inquisition.

Needless to say, once we leave the walls of the city, I breathe the fresh air with relief.

"You did very well," Cassandra says. "We gained contact, no matter how small, with both the mages and Templars because of this."

"And two new comrades have joined our cause as well," Solas adds. It's the first time he's spoken since we met Grand Enchanter Fiona.

"Even if some are…questionable." Cassandra throws me a look and I know she speaks of Sera. I can't bring myself to blame her. She had been a bit hard to keep up with, since she had a tendency to jump back and forth between subjects with the slightest provocation. But, from what little I understood of her explanation, her "friends of Red Jenny" seemed useful. Taking down the "big people" in the name of "little people" who had no voice.

"What do you think of the First Enchanter?" I ask.

"It's good that you recruited Enchanter Vivienne into the Inquisition. She is ambitious but has always shown sense in her dealings with the Chantry." She hesitates. "My advice would be to watch her, but heed her when she speaks. That one wastes no words."

"Hm," I mumble.

Despite Cassandra's words of encouragement, everyone seems a bit subdued when we make camp that night. It doesn't quite feel like we had a victory at all, even if Cassandra keeps insisting otherwise.

The stories do not come, not even from Varric. Everyone merely eats and then sets off for bed.

My heart sinks lower and lower into my chest as the hours pass into days. I cannot stop my mind from wandering to the hopeless conversations that had taken place in Val Royeaux. No matter what Cassandra says, I failed, and everyone knows. The Chantry still denounces us. The Templars refused to talk with us. And the mages…who knows what motivations were hidden behind their contact.

The silence goes on for three nights. No one talks. No one looks me in the eye. When I sneak a glance at Varric, I catch him looking away. It makes my heart fall. _Not you too_, I can't help thinking.

Every night spent around the campfire in silence just confirms my fears. They think I failed. It's why they refuse to look at me. Why they refuse to talk to me.

On the fourth night, I find myself alone in the trees, letting the sorrow in my bones overtake me. I'm just far enough away that no one can hear me, something I'm grateful for. I cry for the life I've lost with my clan — I know, deep in my heart, I can never go back. I cry for all the lives lost in the last few weeks, even the shemlen.

I cry for the fact that, despite everything, I've come to care for these people that have surrounded me. Cassandra and the hidden softness behind her armor. How she loves and cares deeply. Varric and how he uses humor and tales to disperse the heaviest of tensions in the air. The charm that no one can help but fall prey to. And Solas. How his eyes light up when he talks of the Fade and his friend, Wisdom. How his words form a rhythm that hypnotizes me even when I try my best to hold myself together.

And I have failed them.

A small cough behind me lets me know I am no longer alone.

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. "Varric," I say, barely managing to keep my voice steady. "I'm sorry. I did not hear you approach."

He dismisses my comment with a wave of his hand. "You aren't exactly hard to sneak up on sometimes."

"How did you even find me?" I ask. My voice drips with more anger than I intend.

"Chuckles told me."

This makes the few tears still leaking from my eyes abruptly stop. "Solas?"

"Yeah."

"Was he spying on me, then?" I glare at him.

"I…don't think it was intentional. You know how he is. He always wanders off once we make camp. He probably heard you. Came back a few minutes after he left and said you needed a friend."

I scoff.

Varric sits next to me. "Listen, I know everything seems bad right now, but we'll get this sorted out."

I glower at him. "I _failed, _Varric. The Chantry still denounces us, the Templars have all but declared war on us—"

"Stop criticizing yourself. By all means, you did great. _Especially_ for an elf who, by what I could hear you saying a few moments ago, didn't want to get all wrapped up in this human mess anyway."

"But, that's just it, Varric! I've failed not only the Inquisition, but my people! This could've been a great way for elves to finally get some recognition, and yet here I am, messing it all up for everyone."

He sighs. "None of us expected it to go smoothly. Cassandra has more faith in you than you realize. We _all_ do. A few hiccups along the way don't really matter."

I say nothing.

"Come back to camp. Let's swap some stories, like old times."

I mop away the last few tears streaming down my face. "You honestly don't think I've failed?"

He laughs. "Nah. Humans are just more stubborn than you realize, _especially_ when they don't want to admit they're wrong."

I laugh under my breath, despite myself. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"Forget about it."

"You always seem to know what to say to cheer me up."

"Like I said before, I have that affect on people." He helps me stand. "Come on. I think Cassandra said something about fixing your hair when you got back."

The lump in my throat has nothing to do with the leftover tears. "She never fails to surprise."

Varric nods with a chuckle.

Just as Varric said, Cassandra stands when I walk into the firelight. "Herald," she says, her voice weak with relief. "When Solas said you… Let me pull the twigs from your hair. Sit down."

I don't look at Solas as I sit, too embarrassed that he had heard me yelling at Mythal and cursing the Dread Wolf. I close my eyes and let Cassandra unravel my hair to pick out the debris. Varric does has he promised, delving into the Tale of the Champion where he had last left off.

It takes the rest of Varric's story for Cassandra to finish whatever intricate design she twists my hair into. I reach back, my fingers running over the braids and twists that tuck my hair up onto the top of my head. It feel strange, having my neck exposed to the cold wind. As I run my fingers over the back of my neck, where my hair usually hangs, I catch Solas quickly looking away when I glance at him.

"Why do you call Solas 'Chuckles,' Varric?" I ask. "I've always wondered."

Varric raises his eyebrows at me. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Obviously not," Cassandra sighs.

Varric laughs. "Because of his boundless optimism, of course."

Solas shakes his head. "It's comforting that whatever qualities I lack, you'll invent for me, Varric."

"No, really. Why else would an elven apostate help crazy Chantry folk close a hole in the sky?"

Solas ponders that for a moment. "When you put it like that, I must concede your point."

Varric winks at me. "And, of course, because I see how women look at him when he laughs. It's infectious."

Solas tries and fails to hide a smile.

"Even _you_ look at him with those big, blue, puppy-dog eyes when he laughs, Herald."

I choke on the biscuit in my mouth. Heat crawls up my newly exposed neck. "I do _not_!"

Even Cassandra laughs along with Varric. When Solas joins in a second later, I purposely avoid looking at him. The heat has crawled up into my face, despite the teasing look Varric gives me. I frown at him anyway.

"Okay Varric, what would you call me if it wasn't 'Herald?'"

He stares at me for a moment. "Freckles."

"'Freckles?'" I squeak. I touch my face, look down at my arms. I didn't think my freckles were that obvious. My skin was just tan enough to make them near invisible.

"You know? I like it. You're Freckles from now on," Varric says.

I force myself not to look at Solas, who I can see out of the corner of my eye laughing into his hand.

"We should rest," Cassandra says, standing up. "We still have a few days of travel until we reach Haven."

Varric seemed determined, the next morning, to keep things friendly and light. Perhaps he realized that the night before had been the first time any of us had spoken to each other since leaving Val Royeaux.

"So, who do you think is the toughest: Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra?" he asks.

"I'm right here, you know," Cassandra sighs.

"That doesn't rule you out, Seeker."

"Cullen's not up for consideration?" Solas asks, voice curious.

"Curly? They just keep him around to look pretty."

I laugh. "True that," I say.

"You find him attractive, Freckles?" Varric asks.

"For a shemlen? Yes." I smile as I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "But no one holds a candle to you, Varric."

"Aw, you flatter me," he chuckles.

"Should I worry about how Bianca will handle that knowledge?"

"Always."

We all laugh.

I have avoided talking directly to Solas since Varric's comment the night before. Part of me had started to wonder just _why_ he had said it. _Had_ I shown some sort of interest in him that Varric had seen? Or had Varric just been trying to embarrass me? I try not to think too deeply about it and force myself to look at Solas.

"What made you start studying the Fade?" I ask. For some reason, I hadn't yet repeated this question since our last night in the Hinterlands. I'd been too enthralled with his stories about Wisdom to think of asking again.

Solas smiles at me, shifting slightly with his horse on the incline. "Well, _Freckles—_"

I scowl at him.

"I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined." His eyes soften, as they always do when he talks of the Fade. "I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome."

I look up at Cassandra, slightly surprised he speaks so openly with her near. "Did spirits try to tempt you?" I ask.

"No more than a brightly colored fruit is deliberately tempting you to eat it. I learned how to defend myself from more aggressive spirits and how to interact safely with the rest. I learned how to control my dreams with full consciousness. There was so much I wanted to explore."

The word "dreamer" comes to me suddenly. My Keeper had not talked much of them, nor their capabilities in the Fade. But this seems to be exactly what Solas is. It makes me suddenly envious. "I gather you didn't spend your entire life dreaming."

He sighs. "No, eventually I was unable to find new areas in the Fade."

This surprises me. His insights about the Fade seem to do that quite a lot, honestly. "Why?"

"Two reasons. First, the Fade reflects the world around it. Unless I traveled, I would never find anything new. Second, the Fade reflects and is limited by our imaginations. To find interesting areas, one must be interesting."

"Is this why you joined the Inquisition?"

"I joined the Inquisition because we were all in terrible danger. If our enemies destroyed the world, I would have nowhere to lay my head while dreaming of the Fade."

For some reason, this doesn't settle well in my stomach. He wants to save the world merely so he can keep dreaming? "Ah."

He raises his eyebrows at me. "Herald, that is why I _joined_. Not why I stayed."

The way his eyes hold mine makes my stomach flip. "Herald?" I repeat back. "Not Freckles?"

He smirks. "Fine. Shall I call you Freckles as well?"

"I—I mean, if you want. It's not the worst name in the world."

Cassandra interrupts then. "I've wondered: how did you know to approach us, Solas? The Breach opened, we were scrambling and barely had time to think…and there you were."

"I went to see the Breach for myself. I did not know you would be there."

"You must not have been far away."

"I was not. I'd come to hear of the Conclave, but did not want to get close."

"Hmm. Lucky for us, then."

Without him, surely I would have died.

"Well, Solas, I wish you luck," I say. "In finding peace to dream of the Fade."

He studies me for a moment. "Thank you. In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the Fade."

"How so?"

"You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I."

I frown. "'Indomitable focus?'" Was my focus that unshakeable?

"Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated, not even when you were practicing your wards. I imagine that the sight would be…fascinating."

There is a great silence after that. I'm too busy trying to think of what he meant by the comment to notice.

Varric suddenly whistles. "Well shit, Chuckles. That was fairly…provocative."

Solas's words suddenly settle in my stomach in a different way. My neck grows hot again and I curse Cassandra under my breath for exposing it.

Varric laughs at me. "Look at our little Herald! _She_ can flirt without batting an eye but Maker forbid someone else does. She can't take it!"

Solas seems a bit caught off guard as well, the tips of his ears pinker than before. "I had not—"

"I'm going to have to write that one down for one of the romances I'm working on," Varric interrupts. "Dominating an indomitable focus. Makes my chest feel all warm and fuzzy."

"Are you sure it isn't the chest hair?" Solas jabs.

"It's _always_ the chest hair," Varric says, his fingers trailing through the tufts poking out of his vest.

And just like that, we're all laughing. I try not to dwell on what Solas had said. My neck is too exposed to keep those thoughts hidden.

Around the campfire that night, Solas is more open about the Fade despite Cassandra's presence. Her eyes show her concern but she doesn't interrupt. It is only when he goes quiet that she speaks.

"You say you've witnessed past events in the Fade, Solas—or the memories of them. But the Fade distorts reality. Surely it cannot offer a true reflection of what occurred."

"Are your own memories any different? The truth is never precise, regardless of where you are."

She goes quiet then, presumably lost in thought. She does not tell more stories about her past and I can't help but think that his words have cut her deep.

I am surprised at the relief I feel when we reach Haven. I'm not looking forward to updating everyone on what happened in Val Royeaux, but it's a necessity I cannot avoid.

Varric goes to his campfire, settling down and inclining his head as I pass. Solas seems to avoid making eye contact with me as he sets down the path toward his cabin. Cassandra nods at me, motioning for me to follow her.

"Might as well get this over with," I mutter under my breath.


	10. Ma Harel, Da'len

**Hello! Thank you again for the review! I love hearing when someone enjoys my work :) So please, if you feel any sort of way about this story, feel free to write a review! Even if you think it sucks! (Just please, try to be nice and courteous; I'm human too, you know) **

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**On that note, I freaking can't get the links to work? ? ? My FB and Twitter links both work, but the rest just reload my FF ****profile? ? ? I've redone the ones that don't work multiple times so if anyone has advice on what I'm doing wrong, please HELP! XD But both my FB and Twitter have links to my WP site as well, so you can go there too to find the chapters :)**

**This was by far one of my favorite chapters to write this early on :) Hope you guys enjoy as much as I did**

* * *

10 - Ma Harel, Da'len

"It's good you've returned. We heard of your encounter." Josephine greets us almost the moment we walk through the Chantry doors.

"You heard?" Cassandra's voice hides worry.

"My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course." Leliana joins Josephine, Cullen right at her heels.

Cullen's eyes and mouth show the disappointment he cannot hide. "It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital."

I already had thought of what to say beforehand. "We had to do something, and now we have an opportunity."

Josephine nods her head in agreement. "Yes, and we have the opening we need to approach the Templars and the mages."

The four of them lead the way toward the War Room, Cassandra at the head. "Do we? Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember."

"True," Leliana says. "He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been…very odd."

"We must look into it. I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker," Cullen says.

"Or," Josephine starts, "the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead."

Cullen jumps head of her, his face scrunched in displeasure. "You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse!"

I pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers, pushing against the headache building behind my eyes. "Or you could stop bickering and make a decision."

Cassandra holds back a smile. "I agree."

"We shouldn't discount Redcliffe," Josephine says. "The mages may be worth the risk."

"They are powerful, Ambassador, but more desperate than you realize," Cassandra points out.

I shrug. "So it'll be dangerous. I've been in danger since I walked out of the Fade." I look down at the mark on my hand.

"If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…" Cassandra eyes me, her eyes heavy with worry.

"The same could be said about the Templars," Josephine says.

Cullen sighs in defeat. "True enough. Right now, I'm not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely."

"Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places." Cassandra looks at me. "That's something you can help with."

"In the meantime," Josephine breathes, "we should consider other options."

They all exchange looks before retreating to their quarters. Leliana is the only one who stays.

"There is one other matter." She steps closer to me, waiting for me to finish rubbing my temples. "Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but…they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider the idea they're involved in all this, but the timing is…curious."

The Grey Wardens? According to Solas's travels in the Fade, Leliana had worked with the Grey Wardens during the last Blight. King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden had been her close friends. "That…does sound odd, I agree."

"The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."

"And if he can't?"

"Then there may be more going on than we thought."

As I'm walking back to my cabin, I can't help but think of Varric's question about who, of the advisors, is the strongest. Leliana by far is the strongest of them, I decide. She hides her sorrow well.

* * *

I'm surprised to find Solas waiting outside my cabin the next morning. He inclines his head as I shut the door behind me.

"Good morning, da'len."

"Hahren," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Did you need something?"

"I was wondering if I could have a word."

I drop my pack and I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders, blocking the sudden cold breeze. "Of course."

"As I explored the Fade, I felt the presence of an intriguing artifact in the Hinterlands. If you are willing, I would like to locate it."

"Really?" I cannot hide the excitement in my voice. He wants to take me on one of _his_ adventures?

"Yes. Does that mean you are willing to locate it with me?"

"Of course! Leliana has a mission for us in the Hinterlands, anyway." I hesitate, rethinking my words. Would they make him think I didn't wish to go with him? That this wouldn't be important? "I mean…I'll make sure we have time. If this is important to you, it is to me as well."

"Do you mind if, once we arrive, we do this alone?"

My stomach flips. He wants to be alone…with me? "If...that's what you would prefer."

His eyes soften. "Thank you, da'len. Shall I meet you at the gates, then?"

"Yes. I'll get Cassandra and Varric."

He inclines his head and leaves. I say nothing and watch him walk away, my mouth dry.

"There's those puppy-dog eyes I mentioned."

I jump, turning and punching Varric on the arm. "You're horrible!"

He laughs. "Hey, I'm just telling you what I see, that's all."

* * *

The journey to the Hinterlands is uneventful. I spend most of the days thinking about whatever artifact Solas wishes to find. When I press him for answers, he just smiles.

"Patience, da'len. You shall see before long."

We finally reach the camp just outside the Crossroads. I turn to Varric then and he looks at me with eyebrows waggling.

"Are you leaving?" he asks.

"Yes. Solas found something in the Fade that he wants to find."

His eyes widen, his mouth twisting into a small smile. "He _did_ now, did he?"

I grunt. "It's not what you think, Varric."

"I'm sure it isn't. I'm sure I just _imagined_ the looks he gives you _and_ the comment he made about your…what was it…'indomitable focus?'"

I shake my head, placing my hand against my forehead. "Do you mind letting Cassandra know that we'll be back before long?"

He's still smiling. "I'll let the Seeker know."

Solas gives me a questioning look as I walk up to him.

"Where's this artifact?" I ask.

"You do not wish to first seek out this Grey Warden?"

I shake my head. "I told you, if this is important to you, it is to me. We do this first."

I can't quite understand the look in his eyes then.

We walk in silence for a few minutes. I let him lead the way. It's only when we leave the settlement at the Crossroads that I look at him.

"Solas, may I ask a question of you?"

"What would you like to know?"

"I'd be interested in hearing your opinions on elven culture."

He glances at me, leaning against his staff. His eyes show his hesitation. "I thought you would be more interested in sharing _your_ opinions of elven culture. You are Dalish, are you not?"

"My people come from the elves who refused to surrender when humans broke their treaty and destroyed the Dales."

His eyes widen. "Your Keeper was not wrong about that, at least. We must mark the occasion of the Dalish remembering something correctly. Perhaps we should plant a tree."

His tone had changed so abruptly, from open and friendly to condescending mockery.

I clench my fists. Maybe this wasn't such a good topic after all. "You insult my people." I cannot keep the anger out of my voice.

"They insult themselves." His voice also holds traces of frustration. "Remember, I have walked the memories of the Fade. I have seen the history the Dalish imitate."

I pause, feeling the anger in my being subside. He's right, I remember. He has seen much more than I can even begin to imagine. I sigh and let my hands relax. "Ir abelas **(1)**, hahren. If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I would make that right. What course would you set for them that is better than what they know now?"

He stares at me for a long moment. He then sighs, the sound deep in his chest. "You are right, of course. The fault is mine, for expecting what the Dalish could never truly accomplish." He stops, making my feet come to a halt as he steps in front of me. "Ir abelas…da'len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask."

I take a deep inhale of air through my teeth. He doesn't strike me as someone who likes to admit when he's wrong. Yet here he is, apologizing…

My chest lightens at the look in his eyes. He nods before moving out of the way. When we move again, he stands beside me. Our elbows are mere inches away, something I find myself oddly distracted by.

I swallow the lump now settled in my throat. "Is…elven magic different from the magic used by humans?"

He ponders for a brief moment. "No, and yes. Magic is magic, just as water is water, but it can be used in different ways. Dalish magic is more…practical, not needing Chantry approval, although they still frown on blood magic. Superstition. Much of it is more subtle, a legacy from when elves were immortal."

My eyes widen. So then the legends of elven immortality had been true? "Did they use magic to increase their lifespan?"

"No, it was simply part of being elven."

I cannot stop the sharp intake of breath through my teeth. He chuckles in response.

"The subtle beauty of their magic was the effect, not the cause, of their nature. Some spells took years to cast. Echoes would linger for centuries, harmonizing with new magic in an unending symphony." He inhales. "It must have been beautiful."

His voice holds such adoration. The rhythm of his words, yet again, memorize me almost as much as the Fade captivates him.

It takes a moment for me to pull myself from the trance of his words. "You said that the censure against blood magic was a superstition…"

"I did. It's…fortunate Cassandra is not with us."

I'm suddenly glad of it as well.

"Most modern cultures forbid blood magic. Publicly, even Tevinter disapproves of it. But as I said, magic is magic. It matters only in how it is used."

"What about the elves from before our time?"

"The Dalish strive to remember Halamshiral, but Halamshiral was merely a fumbling attempt to recreate a forgotten land."

"Arlathan," I breathe.

He nods. "Elvhenan was the empire, and Arlathan its greatest city. A place of magic and beauty, lost to time."

"You've studied ancient elves?" I don't bother to hide the excitement in my voice. "What else do you know of Arlathan?"

"We hear stories of them living in trees and imagine wooden ramps or Dalish aravels. Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing." He looks at me then. "That is what was lost."

I still my feet, closing my eyes, trying to picture what he describes. Crystal and trees as one. Magic floating in the air like an entity all its own, flowing through everything that moves. It makes my heart ache.

When I open my eyes, it's to find Solas studying me, taking in the sadness in my face. I clear my throat, pushing that sadness down where he cannot see. "Are…all Dalish elves like my clan?"

He seems to realize how intently he is staring at me, then. He blinks and shakes his head just slightly, again joining me at my side as we continue walking. "No. Your clan was unique in having enough interest in human affairs to send you to spy upon the Divine's meeting. As your clans have been separate for so long, they have all changed, adapting to the lands in which they live. Some are no more than bandits, others trade freely with humans — such as yours — and some have disappeared entirely into the forest."

"What about elves living in human cities?"

"The culture in alienages or among the slaves of Tevinter is like any of the impoverished and powerless. They cling to memories of a better past and practice a few rituals to distinguish themselves from humans." He glances at me. "How have your wards been coming along?"

"I—" I pause. "They could be better."

"Then practice while we walk. I fear we may be forced to enter battle and it would be best if you are prepared."

I study the look in his eyes, fearing I have upset him. But they are open, friendly.

"Ma serannas," I mumble. "For answering my questions. I did not realize how…difficult they would be to answer."

He hesitates. "That you even thought to ask…it means more than you can imagine."

He then moves onto helping me strengthen my spells. I can't help but notice that, this time, he does more than tell me how to move my magic with more purpose. He _shows_ me. He takes my hand, as he had done with the first rift, and guides me in the spell. When he's done, and my wards stronger than I had ever dreamed they would be, I can't stop myself from touching the place on my hand where his fingers had moved against mine.

I glance nervously up at him, my heart hammering. I can feel myself staring just a moment too long, but I can't look away. I hadn't before really thought that he was attractive but now… The curve of his nose. The sharp angles of his jawline. Even the little scar below his mouth that gives the appearance of a cleft chin. My throat tightens. Why hadn't I ever noticed before this?

Solas looks at me then, raising his eyebrows. I quickly look away, feeling my face warm. I silently curse Varric and purposefully shake my hands. I'm fairly sure Solas gives me a strange look when I do, but I do not answer the question lingering on his face.

"You would have made an excellent Keeper," I say.

"You believe so?"

I know his voice holds hints of both flattery and offense. I take it in stride. "Yes. If _you_ had been my Keeper, I would have cherished my time studying. And, I do not doubt, learned much more than my own Keeper taught me."

For the first time, he seems lost for words. It takes a good few heartbeats for him to speak. "You…are a rare soul." He shakes his head, seeming to clear it. "Come. We draw close to where I felt the artifact's presence."

I let him lead the way. I can sense when we get close because his aura stretches, reaching for whatever he can see that I cannot. And then we hear the sounds of battle.

"Demons!" Solas says.

We run forward. A Dalish mage stands alone, fighting a lone Shade. Her magic is strong and the demon falls before we even get the chance to help.

The woman turns toward me.

"Andaran atish'an," she says, inclining her head toward me, ignoring Solas completely. "I did not expect to see another of the Dalish blood here. My name is Mihris. By your weapons, I see you come ready for battle. Perhaps we face a common enemy in these demons."

"Are you fighting the demons on your own?" I ask, slightly amazed at her courage.

"Fighting the demons is pointless. There will always be more. And I have no means of closing the rifts. But I have heard of elven artifacts that measure the Veil. They may tell us where new rifts will appear."

I throw a glance at Solas and I see it in his eyes: this artifact is what we came for.

"I was not expecting so many demons, however," she continues. "I believe one of the artifacts is nearby. Can you help me reach it?"

"Sounds worth investigating," I say, trying not to sound like this is why we've come in the first place. Explaining how we knew about the artifact would be difficult.

"Thank you. It shouldn't be too much farther ahead."

She follows us up a path of stone steps. They are old, long since crumbled under the weight of ages.

"Thank you for joining me," Mihris says as we near an archway, blocked by fallen stone. "I do not think I could have done this alone."

"What took you away from your clan?" I ask, reaching out with my mind to move the stone out of our way.

"I was - am - first of clan Virnehn! I left in service of my clan and saw that great tear in the Veil on my journey. I know more of magic and the Veil than any shemlen, so I hoped to help."

I turn to look at her, only to see Solas studying her. His eyes narrow. "Ma harel, da'len," he says.

She jumps, twisting her hands, seeming to notice him for the first time. "I…" she stammers. "Do not speak of that which you do not know, flat-ear."

The anger that rushes into my veins is so strong, I do not have the restraint to control it. My hands quake at my sides, pulsing with mana. Words rush from between my clenched teeth like a raging river, quick and unstoppable. "Fen'Harel ma halam **(2)**. He is no more a flat-ear than you or I."

My entire being shakes in fury. I feel Solas's gaze burning into the side of my face, drinking in my anger.

"It is quite all right, lethallan **(3)**."

_Lethallan._

Solas's whisper, and the pressure of his hand on my shoulder, pulls me back to myself. The rage, so all-consuming, had been a surprise and now I feel how my body trembles with it. I clear my throat, shaking my head as I let the mana calm inside me.

Mihris seems to reconsider herself. "I…I apologize…" She eyes my fingers, where lightning had just danced in my anger. "I _did _lie. My clan… They were all killed…by a demon that our Keeper was foolish enough to summon. I am the only survivor of Clan Virnehn. I was searching for another clan that would take me in when the Breach appeared. Now, I am doing whatever I can to help with this madness."

"Of…of course," I mutter, both to her and Solas. "As we all should."

My face burns with embarrassment as we follow her inside the structure. Why had I reacted so rashly? Was it because I considered Solas a friend and mentor after our travels and lessons together? Or had Varric set something aflame inside of me with his teasing? I choose to believe the former.

We find the artifact Solas had spoke of deep inside. He activates it, voicing that it will strengthen the Veil and make it safer for travelers in the area. Mihris chooses to stay inside and study it. I refuse to look at Solas as we leave her and head back toward the Crossroads.

He chuckles under his breath after a few minutes of walking. "Your rage is…quite a sight to behold."

I groan. "Don't remind me. It was foolish of me to react in such a way."

"Why did her words offend you so?"

I still refuse to look at him even though I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. I ignore that he must see the new wave of heat spreading up my neck.

"It is what I am," he says.

"No!" I flinch as my nail digs deep into my palm. I unclench my jaw, calming myself. "No. I may regret how I acted but I do not think the words a lie. You are no more a flat-ear than I."

He does not respond for a few moments. I finally dare a look at him over my shoulder.

There is a sadness in his eyes that seems to run deep into his core. But then it's gone, replaced with something I don't fully comprehend.

"A rare soul, indeed," he whispers.

I roll my eyes. "Sweet talker."

He laughs, picking up his pace so he stands beside me. "I was right."

"About what?"

"It _was_ fascinating."

"'It?'"

"Seeing your focus shattered so completely."

My cheeks burn and I look away from him. "Oh."

"The grace with which you held yourself, even in your rage, was fascinating as well."

Grace? "Are you suggesting _I'm_ graceful? Me?"

He tries and fails to hide his smile. "No. I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate."

Is he…_flirting_ with me? I open my mouth to respond but stop myself, not trusting my now pounding heart. I trip over a large rock, as if unknowingly trying to prove him wrong. I barely catch myself.

He looses his battle with his smile then. "At least, most of the time."

The sight of Varric and Cassandra waiting for us at the Crossroads is a relief. I throw a scathing look at Varric, blaming him for all the emotions that now pour through my veins when I look at Solas.

* * *

**(1) Ir abelas - elvish for "I am sorry"**

**(2) Fen'Harel me halam - literal translation means "Dread Wolf ends you;" a threat**

**(3) lethallan/lethallin - casual reference for someone you are familiar with; lethallan is generally used for females and lethallin for males - author's note - at some point I read somewhere (though I can't seem to remember where or when) that it was like calling someone a friend, or close friend, and that's the interpretation that stuck with me. To me it felt like Solas referring to her as a friend was a turning point for her, hence why she repeats it to herself in her mind**

**Also, I decided to combine Mihris's different responses to the Herald's question of "what are you doing here" (she lies to anyone who isn't an elf and tells the truth to a fellow Dalish) because I found Solas's reaction to the lie - and Mihris's - hilarious and I couldn't stop myself from adding that little bit in XD Obviously I added my own twist too... Am I the only one who yelled at the screen when she asked Solas (if your Herald isn't a mage) if he could "handle that, flat-ear?" No? Good... That's why I added that little tidbit in...**

**I originally had the two of them leave Haven together instead of all four of them. But then I found that map and saw that, realistically, the Hinterlands is at least a 5-6 day walk on foot and...well...I wasn't ready for them to have that much time alone yet XD It still worked out though, I think**


	11. Don't Go

**Yay for reviews! Thanks everyone! Getting one always makes my day!**

**In ****response, yes, I'm not a fan of smut nor dark Solas either. I feel like both really don't do the intense emotional connection this romance relies on justice (nor their personalities). **

**Also yes, I do have a lot more original dialogue coming up soon. I include a lot of this banter because I feel it sets up their voices/personalities very well and helps _me_ make my original stuff flow a lot better, if that makes sense. It's a lot easier for me to "hear" their voice if I add in actual banter. But I promise, lots of original stuff coming!**

* * *

11 - Don't Go

The days pass as we continue gathering people to our cause. The Warden called Blackwall proves to hold none of the answers that Leliana seeks, but joins us in the fight against the Breach.

"Thinking we're involved is as bad as thinking we're absent," he says.

Something seems to have shifted between Solas and I. Is it because Varric always manages to give a coy smile whenever he catches us talking to each other? Or has Solas noticed how—whenever my hair is twisted up in whatever new design Cassandra forces upon it—my neck flushes when I catch him staring at me?

As the days turn into weeks, Solas starts to retreat more and more into his cabin as I come down his path. His stories come less readily and soon, he starts refusing to come on missions altogether. He doesn't come when we clear a path to horse-master Dennet. He doesn't join when we journey to the Storm Coast and hire the Bull's Chargers, run by a Qunari by the name of Iron Bull. He refuses when I ask if he'll help Blackwall and I search for news of the missing Grey Wardens.

"You should take Enchanter Vivienne," he suggests. "Her ice magic is powerful and your wards are now strong enough to keep everyone from harm."

"But I do not trust my life in her hands," I protest, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"I am sorry, lethallan. I…should not join. Not in this."

After his third denial, I stop asking.

We work tirelessly to clear the Hinterlands of the war. Sometimes, Cassandra comes with me, along with Varric and Vivienne. Sometimes it's Iron Bull who asks to come instead of Vivienne. Other times it's Blackwall and Sera, who get along quite well both during battle and around the campfire.

Never Solas.

Once the war in the Hinterlands has settled, Cullen sends troops to build watchtowers to help keep an eye on the roads. We also clear out a pack of wolves that seems to have been taken over by a demon. Both are things the horse-master requires of the Inquisition before he'll send us new and better horses. As we work, we destroy rifts that are scattered among the land, freeing the refugees of their fear of demons.

It takes a full two weeks for Varric to stop asking what happened between Solas and I, and just as long for me to push away the betrayal and sadness I feel at his strange and sudden abandonment. I long for his stories of the Fade, long for the rhythm of his voice.

Sera and Blackwall both prove to be enjoyable company. It doesn't take long for Varric and I to start joining them in the tavern after dark to play Diamondback. It takes a few nights of playing for me to understand the game with any efficiency at all.

The advisors all argue on whether we should make contact with the mages or find the Templars. I sit back and listen to them, finally telling everyone to just pick a side and let me know when they're ready to send me.

"Then you decide, Herald," Cassandra says.

"Me? Why should I decide?"

"Because," Leliana starts, "you have been the face of the Inquisition for the last few weeks."

"_You_ brought Mother Giselle to our side," Josephine adds.

"_You_ spoke with both the Templars and Enchanter Fiona in Val Royeaux," Cassandra says.

"With _your_ help," I moan. They all ignore me.

"And, don't forget, you have been the one going out there and recruiting new scouts and members," Cullen finishes.

I go quiet. They turn to each other and continue to discuss tactics in my silence. I finally stand straight, facing them. "We go to the mages, then."

"And what of the Templars?" Cullen asks.

I shrug. "I am a mage. I would feel much more comfortable having them on our side than asking for help from people who wished I didn't exist."

Cullen looks ready to disagree but holds his tongue.

"Leliana, send word to Redcliffe," I say.

She nods her head. "As you wish."

The next day, Leliana receives word that a small group of her scouts have gone missing in the Fallow Mire. It's a dreary bog where it almost constantly rains. I do not hesitate to offer my help to go find them and bring them back.

Varric, Blackwall, and I join Sera in the tavern the night before we're supposed to set out, easing our worries with drink and games.

"I learned a hard lesson last night," Blackwall says, after his third cup of mead.

"What?" Sera squeals in delight. "_Hard_ talking with Miss Josie, eh?"

Blackwall sighs, twitching his salt and pepper beard. "Not this again. Please, Sera."

"What was it?" I ask, cutting her off before she can continue.

"Don't play Diamondback with Solas."

I barely keep myself from choking on my drink.

"Taught him the game last night," he continues as if he hadn't noticed. "He turned around and beat me at it. Lost everything. Had to walk back to my quarters with only a bucket for my bits."

Varric and Sera both laugh. I join as well, trying not to let my eyes betray the sadness flooding my body.

"Does he come here often?" I ask, trying and failing at nonchalance.

Blackwall's eyes linger only a moment too long. "Usually after you've gone, yes." He hesitates. "Not always. Maybe once or twice a week."

He _is_ avoiding me, then. The lump in my throat makes it difficult for me to finish my cup.

"Pfft. His head's crammed up a thousand years ago," Sera grunts. "Right party pooper, that one."

I can't help but silently agree.

The next morning, Varric, Blackwall, Sera, and I set out for the Fallow Mire, which sits just south of the Hinterlands. All of us are on edge, worried about the fate of the scouts. When we get there, Scout Harding fills us in, saying they've found out the scouts have been captured by a group of people called the Avvar. Apparently, the Avvar don't like my "claim" of being the Herald and wish to battle me for my blasphemy. It doesn't matter that I've argued against my being chosen since I stepped out of the Fade. Word about me and my deeds have spread far. Now, people challenge me for it.

"The Veil smells like arse here," Sera said after Scout Harding leaves. "_And_ there's undead runnin' round? Not right, this."

Blackwall looks a bit on edge as well. "It's so wet. Why haven't the dead rotted away?"

"This shit is ruining my boots," Varric groans, looking down at his feet.

"Come on, guys," I sigh. "Stop complaining and let's go get our scouts back."

We take down the undead that rise from the waters as we move across the bog. My magic is now strong enough to keep everyone safe from harm as we battle. The last two months of practice have proved useful. My magic is the strongest it's ever been, something that gives me confidence. I tell myself we don't need Solas, nor his wards, to make myself feel better about his absence.

As we move, we come across a stray Avvar. He stares up into a rift in the sky, which is not open at the moment to pour demons from its depths. He does not attack and instead tells us that our scouts are still well and alive with the other Avvar. I sigh in relief at the news before turning to the rift to open it, letting the demons fall out before closing it for good.

Sera shivers. "I _hate_ all this undead shite. It ain't right."

"Why?" I ask. "They're just spirits possessing dead bodies."

She points her finger at me, shaking her head violently. "Stop. Stop it now."

Varric laughs at her. "Look at you. Scared out of your pants by a few undead."

She giggles in spite of herself. "Breeches."

"You guys are insufferable," I groan.

"You know you love me, Freckles," Varric says, winking.

"That doesn't make you any less insufferable."

We move forward, keeping an eye on the Avvar still standing where the rift had been, following the path cutting through the murky water.

Lightning starts to dance over our heads. Flashes of it dart toward the ground, sending bits of mud and grass flying into the air. I'm just about to warn them to watch out for the stray bolts when pain suddenly shoots through my body, bright light blinding me and knocking me backwards.

* * *

I wake what can only be moments later. The bog still surrounds me, my back against the ground, face drenched with rain and mud. Shadows hover over me, moving frantically. Their voices are muffled so I cannot hear what's being said. I can only decipher the fear and desperation.

Someone tips a potion glass to my lips. It runs through my core, stitching together my wounds, recovering my mana. I cough as it goes down, slapping away the hands I feel touch my face so I can breathe freely. In an instant, the potion finishes its magic and the voices ring in my ears, clear as ever.

"Lethallan."

His voice makes me freeze. My hand is mid-swing, fingers touching drenched skin. I take a deep breath, blinking away the water falling into my eyes.

Solas.

"W-what?" I stammer. My heart is hammering uncontrollably, rejuvenated after weeks of dormancy.

His face screams with relief. "I—I thought…"

My hand still rests just next to his face, fingertips touching his cheek. He does not brush them away. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, his eyes tell me he's about to—

I bolt upright, pushing myself away and jumping to my feet. I take a few steps back, away from where he still crouches on the ground.

"What're you doing here?" I ask, my voice higher than normal. I cough, clearing my throat. "I did not ask you to come!"

Blackwall shakes his head. "The lightning struck you and then…he came out of nowhere. At least, that's what it felt like."

"I was not far," Solas says, standing to his feet. "I came to offer my assistance."

"Came my arse," Sera mutters. "More like followed."

Solas scowls at her. "I was just about to approach when I saw the lightning. You did not hear me because you were too busy panicking."

"_What_ are you doing here, Solas?" I ask again, my voice steady.

"You were planning on going north to Redcliffe after finding these scouts, correct? I…" There's confusion in his eyes. "You did not ask me to come."

I glare at him.

"Uh, I'm just going to…" Varric takes a few steps away, discreetly grabbing Blackwall and Sera. I throw him a glare as well as he pulls them back toward the cabin we had passed before.

"I…came to offer my assistance. As I said."

"It's a five day walk here from Haven, Solas…on _horseback_."

He says nothing. His mouth is lightly parted, as if literally lost for words.

I clench my hands in front of me. "You haven't even _spoken_ to me in weeks. Why offer your help now?" I feel my voice rising, don't bother to stop it. "After all the times I came to you asking for your help?!" My throat screams.

There's a vulnerability in his eyes that makes my neck burn. I ignore the heat as it spreads to my cheeks. I hold his gaze, jaw clenched.

He seems to pull himself together, his eyes hardening. "If you do not wish for my help, then I shall leave." His voice is oddly calm. He turns and starts back toward our camp, his shoulders tense.

Sadness washes over me, more intense than the entirety of the last few weeks combined. I know it then, in that moment. I don't want him to leave. I _never_ want him to leave.

Why had I not lay on the ground a moment longer? Let his face fall into my hand?

Oh gods. Dread Wolf take you, Varric. This is all _your_ fault.

"W-wait!"

He must hear it in my voice. Why else would he stop and yet refuse to look at me?

My body shakes. I focus on my mana, let it calm me before I speak again. "I would…appreciate the help from you. As we all would." Please, _don't go_.

"You…wish me to stay?" There's true confusion in his voice now.

"Yes. If you're still offering the help?"

He finally turns. There's a deep, dark sadness in his eyes. But something else hides behind it, raw and primal. And then it's gone. He leans against his staff, inclining his head. "Then I shall stay."

I set my shoulders back, try to channel the confidence I had gained while negotiating the last few weeks. "Let's tell the others, then."

I attempt not to focus on how close he stands as we walk back toward the cabin. The lone Avvar standing outside the building nods as we pass.

"Solas is joining us," I say, holding my head high.

"Sounds good to me," Blackwall says.

Varric says nothing, just waggles his eyebrows at me.

"Pfft. It's gettin' way too…" Sera wrinkles her nose, hopping down from the drenched table she'd been sitting on. "_Elfy_ here. Imma head back to the camp. That all right?"

"Are you sure, Sera?" I ask her. "We could use your help."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

My heart falls slightly. I don't feel right, letting her leave like this. But the alternative makes my heart ache. "We'll come back for you when we're finished, then."

"Yeah, yeah." She waves us along.

I hold her gaze as she turns to leave. She shrugs, smirk on her face, as always.

As we move, taking down the walking corpses as they rise from the waters, Solas walks at my side as he had done during our last visit to the Hinterlands. It makes me feel more relaxed than it rightly should.

I look down, realize I'm covered in mud after my dance with lightning. I start trying to brush it away, glad for the rain to help wash it down.

Solas must notice, because he suddenly clears his throat. "We will want to launder our clothes later. Or burn them."

I know what Varric is going to say before he even opens his mouth.

"Oh, I imagine our little Herald wouldn't mind—"

I purposely look away from him as he stops to rub the spot on his foot where I had trod on it. Solas says nothing, but I don't miss the smirk on his face as we turn toward the fortress.

* * *

**I got the idea for this little section whilst I was roaming the Fallow Mire with my Herald. I can't tell you how many times I got hit by lightning but yet nothing happened. Kinda seemed silly. I mean, the grass goes flying, everything looks burnt for a few seconds. Why can't my girl at least take damage? So, this was the result XD**


	12. Applause

**Thanks again for the review! Glad you're enjoying it so much!**

* * *

12- Applause

Enchanter Fiona had told no one we were coming. Redcliffe does not expect us.

"Something isn't right here," I say as our scout leaves us just inside the gates. "Be on your guard."

None of my companions disagree. I'm suddenly glad I'd sent for the people I've come to trust the most, the ones who have been with me since the beginning. I have a sinking feeling in my chest that makes my mana surge.

"Be careful, lethallan."

I nod as Solas without looking at him.

We walk through town toward the tavern the scout had mentioned—The Gull and Lantern—where the meeting had been arranged. Frightened and hushed whispers from the townsfolk drift to me in patches as we navigate toward the opposite end of the town. Many speak of Tevinter, which confuses me and puts me even more on edge.

"The bridge to the castle has been destroyed," Cassandra whispers.

I grip my staff tighter. _What_ had happened here?

"I don't like the sound of this," Varric mutters.

"Me, either."

The tavern is full of bodies. Voices wave around us, some hiding the fear I had sensed in the townsfolk outside. Others sound confident, brave, renewed.

As promised, Enchanter Fiona stands waiting for us at the far end of the room. She nods her head at us as we approach. "Welcome, agents of the Inquisition." She furrows her brows. "What has brought you to Redcliffe?"

I hesitate. What kind of game is she playing? "We're here because of your invitation back in Val Royeaux."

The confusion on her face is too real. "You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave."

I tilt my head off to the side, studying her face. I see no signs of foul play in her gaze. I take a deep breath, no longer sure of what I'm supposed to say. "Well…that's very strange, because someone who looked exactly like you spoke to me in Val Royeaux."

Her eyes widen. "Exactly like me?" She looks away, her eyes roaming the room. "I suppose…it could be magic at work, but why would anyone…" She shakes her head. Her voice changes, becoming hard. "Whoever…or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already…pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

A shock wave rushes through my body, turning my blood cold. The Tevinter Imperium? Here, in Redcliffe? All those whispers suddenly make sense.

"An alliance with Tevinter?" Cassandra exclaims. "Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?"

"Andraste's ass…" Varric gasps. "I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I've got nothing."

Solas's voice is softer than I expected. "I understand that you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter."

Fiona just glares at them. "As one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

"What about the giant hole in the Veil that's spewing demons everywhere?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. "You're just going to pretend it isn't there?!"

"I am not forgetting the Breach," she says, eyes narrow. "But we can only fight one war at a time. The Templar threat was immediate. If we live, we can worry about the torn Veil."

The door to the tavern opens at that moment. Many of the people inside stop talking almost immediately. Two men enter. The man in front holds his head high under his hood. He has thinning dark shemlen hair around his mouth. Soft lines mark his face. The man in the back looks much younger and there is a similar set to their eyes that has me wondering if they're kin.

"Welcome, my friends!" the older of them says. "I apologize for not greeting you earlier." The two of them step in front of Fiona, partially blocking her from view.

"Agents of the Inquisition," Fiona says, "allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."

So, _this_ is what a Magister of Tevinter looks like. He holds himself like one who thinks himself above all of this. Superior to the mages around him. There's a cocky boldness to his stare that makes me want to run, fast as I can, from the room.

"The Southern mages are under my command," the Magister says. "And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade?" He looks me up and down, making me shift uncomfortably. "Interesting."

I hold my head up, clasp my hands behind my back. "I'd like to know more about this alliance between the rebel mages and the Imperium."

"Certainly," he says. "What specifically do you wish to know?"

"I'm not clear on when, exactly, you negotiated this arrangement with Fiona."

"When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the Templars, who rushed to attack them." He turns back to look at Fiona. His voice drips honey sweet. "It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did."

Fiona shifts on her feet, her mouth thinning. "It was certainly…very timely."

"What does the Imperium gain from taking rebel mages under its wing?" I ask.

"For the moment, the Southern mages are a considerable expense. After they are properly trained, they will join our legion."

Legion? As in army?

Fiona starts, apparently as shocked as I am. Her eyes are quickly filling with fear and regret. "You said not all my people would be military! There are children, those not suited—"

"And one day," he interrupts, turning toward her with narrow eyes. "I'm sure they will all be productive citizens of the Imperium. When their debts are paid."

The pain on Fiona's face is so all-consuming. It makes my heart ache for her.

"The Grand Enchanter told me she was 'indentured to a Magister.'"

"Our Southern brethren have no legal status in the Imperium. As they were not born citizens of Tevinter, they must work for a period of ten years before gaining full rights."

Slavery. I hear the implication behind his words with ease. Of course. Tevinter is well-known for their blatant use of slaves.

"As their protector, I shall oversee their work for the Imperium."

It's getting harder and harder to control my voice. "I haven't seen any sign of Redcliffe's Arl or his men."

"The Arl of Redcliffe left the village."

Cassandra scoffs behind me. "Arl Teagan did not abandon his lands during the Blight, even when they were under siege."

The Magister slips her a sly smile. "There were…tensions growing. I did not want an incident."

That explains the broken bridge to the castle. Even I can read between the lines and see the signs of a takeover.

Solas discreetly touches my arm, grounding me. I hadn't noticed I was starting to shake. I pull myself taller. Closing the Breach is more important than any fear I feel. "If you're leading the mages now, then let's talk. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

The Magister's smile causes goose-pimples to rise on my skin. "It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable woman." He motions to the empty table behind me.

Before I sit, I sneak a glance at Fiona. She looks distraught, her eyes dark with sadness. Her shoulders are slouched forward. My blood boils with pity. I then discreetly wave at my companions, telling them to hang back. I can't look weak, like I need their presence too near.

The Magister calls the other Tevinter over. "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?" He then looks at me. "Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends."

The young man steps forward and bows. I was correct, then, in guessing their relation. I can see it more clearly now that he stands close, in the shape of his face, his black hair. He nods and leaves.

"I'm not surprised you're here," the Magister starts. "Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed." He holds his head up and back, as if he already thinks himself the winner of whatever game we're playing.

"Does that mean you'll lend your mages to our cause?" I ask, staying cool.

"There will have to be—"

Felix reenters then. His tan face has paled. His arm is slung across his stomach. My stomach drops and I stand at the same time as Alexius.

I gasp as the young man falls into me. I barely keep myself upright as I struggle to hold his weight. And then something—a piece of parchment—is shoved into my hands. My heart starts racing and I quickly hide it in my palm.

"Felix!" the Magister says. The compassion and worry in his voice is no longer fake and dripping like poison.

I glance at my companions. All three of them look worried, hesitant.

Felix pushes himself off of me. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady."

The Magister fawns over him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Father."

"Come, I'll get your powders." Alexius looks at us, barely hiding the fear in his gaze. "Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time." He grabs Felix and starts to guide him from the tavern. "Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle."

Felix looks back at me. "I don't mean to trouble everyone."

"I shall send word to the Inquisition," the Magister says once they reach the door. "We will conclude this business at a later date."

I wait until they're gone before looking down at what Felix had shoved into my grasp.

It's a note.

"'Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.'"

Varric steps forward, looking at the parchment in my hand. "Oh, very mysterious."

"This could be a trap," Solas adds, looking at me.

Now that the Magister is gone, I let my mind wander freely over what happened, let the fear I feel flow for just a moment. What had the Enchanter gotten the mages into? Had she fought so hard to gain freedom from the Circles just to sell her people into Slavery? Had she not seen the signs of what she was doing? She's an _elf_! She _must_ realize what Tevinter did to our people so long ago. What they continue to do.

Foolish flat-ear.

"We'll be careful," I say, pushing those thoughts away. "We need to figure out what's going on here."

I lead the way outside and to the Chantry, which Cassandra points out for me. More people are huddled outside, some sitting next to hastily erected tents. Only one Revered Mother seems to have stayed in Redcliffe to preach to the mages.

I can hear the sounds of a struggle coming from the other side of the Chantry doors. Cassandra and I glance at each other before quickly throwing the doors open.

A single man—a mage—stands inside. A rift hangs above him, dropping Shades down on him like flies on stink. He swings his staff, slamming it into the demons that come close. When the last of them disappear into mist, he turns to look at us over his shoulder.

"Good!" he says. "You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?"

This rift is as unusual as the rift directly outside Redcliffe's gates had been: it distorts everything around it, speeding some of the demons up, slowing others down. Cassandra charges at them, Varric's arrows piercing their flesh. The new man, Solas, and I hang back. Solas shields us as lightning dances from my staff and fire roars from the man's.

When the demons finally stop pouring from out of the rift, I raise my hand, grabbing the power pulsing from the hole in the Veil. Pain shoots through my body as the power of the rift flows into me. I grunt, pushing it away, forcing it back into the Veil. In a great explosion, it closes.

The man looks up at where the rift once stood. Then he turns, his eyes wide in amazement.

Aside from Cullen, he's the first truly attractive shemlen man I've seen. His skin is the color of caramel, his black hair impeccably styled. He even has some of that weird shemlen hair on his lip, curled upward toward his cheeks. A mustache is what it's called, I remember.

"Fascinating," he says. "How does that work, exactly?"

I'm too enthralled by him to realize he's asked me a question.

He laughs. "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes." He waves his hands in the air dramatically.

I sigh. He's right. "Who are you?" I ask.

"Ah. Getting ahead of myself again, I see." He bows his head, his eyes not leaving me. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"

A Tevinter. It makes my skin crawl. How many slaves does this man own back in his homeland? How many of them are one of my people?

Cassandra eyes him wearily. "Be cautious with this one."

The man called Dorian raises his perfectly groomed eyebrows. "Suspicious friends you have here." He shakes his head slightly, not seeming to care too much. "Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable—as I'm sure you can imagine."

I frown, not wanting to admit that he's right. "I was…expecting Felix to be here," I say, the confusion in my voice a bit too obvious.

"I'm sure he's on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father."

"Alexius couldn't jump to Felix's side fast enough when he pretended to be faint," I say. "Is something wrong with him?"

Dorian shrugs. "He's had some lingering illness for months. Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen, most likely."

I look him up and down, frowning slightly. "Are you a Magister?"

His brows furrow together. "All right, let's say this once. I'm a mage from Tevinter, but not a Magister of the Magisterium." He smirks. "I know Southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you sound like barbarians."

I purse my lips. "Stop talking like you're waiting for applause. Just tell me what's going on."

His eyes widen. "What, there's no applause? Fine." He laughs but quickly composes himself. "Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note."

Of course.

"Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes?"

I nod, raising my eyebrows.

"Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."

I barely keep myself from laughing. "If there was a way to turn back time, the Dalish would have used it long ago."

Solas steps forward. "That is fascinating, if true…" His mouth downturns just the slightest. "And almost certainly dangerous."

"The rift you closed here?" Dorian motions to where it had hovered above the pews. "You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon, there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world."

I look up at where the rift had pulsed. We had taken down a similar rift outside of town before walking through the gates. But…_time travel_?

"You're asking me to take a lot on faith," I say.

His eyes narrow. "I know what I'm talking about. I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work." He lifts his hand, stroking his chin in thought. "What I don't understand is why he's doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He didn't do it for them."

Felix appears out of the shadows behind Dorian.

"Took you long enough!" Dorian exclaims. He then drops his voice. "Is he getting suspicious?"

"No," Felix says, shaking his head. "But I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day." Felix now looks at me. "My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori.' And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done to get to you."

Of course. That's always the answer. "Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?"

"They're obsessed with you, but I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

I'm starting to regret having stepped out of that rift what feels ages ago. But, then I'd be dead. I sigh.

"You _can_ close the rifts," Dorian adds. "Maybe there's a connection? Or they see you as a threat?"

"If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought," Felix says.

I look at him now, pondering. "Alexius is your father. Why are you working against him?"

"For the same reasons Dorian works against him. I love my father, and I love my country. But this? Cults? Time magic? What he's doing now is madness." The pain on his face is nearly tangible. "For his own sake, you have to stop him."

"It would also be nice if he didn't rip a hole in time," Dorian adds. "There's already a hole in the sky."

I shake my head in disbelief. "All this for me? And here I didn't get Alexius anything."

Varric chuckles under his breath. Solas turns away to hide his smirk. Cassandra buries her face in her hand, sighing deeply.

The smile on Dorian's face is wide. "Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those." Then he shakes his head, face serious again. "You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage." He hesitates, his eyes torn. "I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here. And I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there." He turns, nodding at us over his shoulder. "I'll be in touch." He pauses. "Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed." He clasps his hands together in front of him, a silent prayer.

Felix smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "There are worse things than dying, Dorian."


	13. In Hushed Whispers

**Okay guys. I'm currently out of state for a wedding (on the mobile app right now) and I have no idea if I'll be home by Monday to post again, so I'm going to post both today's chapter and Monday's as well. Next chapter will come in a week :)**

**Thanks everyone!**

13 - In Hushed Whispers

"We don't have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the Templars!"

"Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister," Cassandra yells at Cullen. "This cannot be allowed to stand."

"The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name," Josephine says. "It's an obvious trap."

I had been sitting quietly for the last hour in the corner of the War Room, listening to them scream at each other. I finally sigh and look over at them, not bothering to stand. "We can't waste time fighting among ourselves. We have to come to an agreement."

"A Tevinter Magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing." The glare Leliana throws is directed toward Josephine.

"Not this again," the Ambassador sighs.

Cullen's face turns red as he looks at me. "Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you'll die. And we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it." The only thing he doesn't do is stomp his foot in anger.

Part of me feels a pang of anger that this is all I am to them: a means to an end. But I shake it off quickly, remembering that the alternative makes the remark worth it.

Leliana _does_ stomp her foot. "And if we don't even try to stop Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!"

"Even if we could assault the Keep, it would be for naught," Josephine says. "An 'Orlesian' Inquisition's army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands our tied."

Cassandra looks distraught. "The Magister—"

"Has outplayed us," Cullen cuts off.

I entwine my fingers, flex them. "The Magister's son, Felix, told me that Alexius is in a cult that's obsessed with me. I doubt they'll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business."

"They will remain a threat, and a powerful one, unless we act," Leliana says.

"We cannot accept defeat now," Cassandra pleads, voice strained. "There must be a solution."

They bicker for a few moments longer, voices finally more subdued now. My head still throbs despite their quieter tones. I press my fingers into my temples, try to think.

"Other than the main gate, there's got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something?" I ask.

Cullen rubs his forehead. "There's nothing I know of that would work."

Leliana suddenly goes stiff. "Wait." Her eyes roam around the room, unseeing. "There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through."

That's right. Leliana had once been a companion of the Hero of Ferelden. They had stormed the castle to free the Arl's son from a demon. I jump to my feet.

"Too risky," Cullen says. "The agents will be discovered well before they reach the Magister."

Leliana turns her eyes on me. "That's why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?"

Cullen taps his chin, his eyes hesitantly intrigued. "While they're focused on Lavellan, we break the Magister's defenses. It could work, but it's a huge risk."

The door behind me bursts open. In glorious fashion, Dorian bounds into the room. "Fortunately, you'll have help."

One of Cullen's soldiers hastily follows him in. "This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander."

"Your spies will never get past Alexius's magic without my help," Dorian says, ignoring the soldier. "So if you're going after him, I'm coming along."

Cullen's eyes sag with defeat. He waves toward me. "The plan puts you in the most danger. We can't, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you'd rather not play the bait. It's up to you."

I think for a long moment, finally turning to Leliana. "When did the note say to meet?"

"A week from today."

So I have a few days to decide.

I do not pay attention to where my feet carry me as I ponder my predicament. Cullen is right. It's a huge risk, allowing myself to play the bait. Should I risk sacrificing myself to free the mages from Tevinter? Do they _deserve_ saving? Or do I instead take the safer route and try to make contact with the Templars?

No one deserves slavery. Not even shemlen as foolish as these ones. That has been what we Elvhen have fought against for ages. Letting this go goes against everything my people believe in.

But, if I act the bait and am killed… My mark is the only thing that can close the Breach. We'd risk losing that power and leaving the Breach to spread. Plus, there's a more vain thought deep in the recesses of my mind: why should _I_ risk death for these silly humans?

"Yes, lethallan?"

Of course my feet would take me here.

Solas sits on the ground just outside his door. By the position of his hands, he had been in deep meditation when I walked up.

"I…need advice, hahren."

His posture changes almost instantly, his shoulders rolling back. "With what?"

"On if I should risk my life to save the mages."

He stands. "Do you not trust your own instincts?"

My mouth drops open slightly. Is he about to refuse to help me, like he had done for the last few weeks?

"I did not mean offense," he backtracks. "I am just wondering why you doubt yourself?"

The words don't come. I stand, twisting my hands in front of me.

His eyes soften. "Your mask falls so easily when out of earshot of the advisors."

Again, I say nothing.

He chuckles as he opens his cabin door. "Come. I shall give what advice I can."

It's the first time I've ever been in his personal space. Books are stacked everywhere: on the bookshelf, on his table, at the foot of the bed. From what I can see of the titles, many involve the Fade and the Veil.

Solas waves his hand over the charred logs in the fireplace. Flames instantly spring to life, licking up the dry wood.

I wander over to his table. There are a few sketches scattered across its surface. Much of it I don't understand. I've never quite had the eye for art. I do, however, notice a lot of wolves: howling at the moon, prowling after a hooded figure. I look up at him, notice the necklace that always hangs from his neck: a wolf jawbone. It makes me shiver.

"Do you not fear the Dread Wolf?" I whisper.

He stares at me for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

I gesture toward the sketches.

He laughs. "Oh. _Those_ are merely wolves. Sometimes a wolf is just a wolf, as you perhaps remember me mentioning."

"Of course," I say. "But do you not fear what they represent?"

He doesn't answer for a moment. "I have no reason to fear Fen'Harel."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Something you know from your travels in the Fade, I gather?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Then do you study wolves? Do you know much about them?"

"I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts."

I ignore the jab at my culture's superstitions and turn toward him.

"But you did not come here to talk of wolves."

"No…no I didn't." I hesitate and then shake my head. "I actually had not meant to come here at all. I'm sorry, I should not have disturbed you."

He raises his eyebrows. "You did no such thing. Please."

I breathe out and join him where he sits on the rug in front of the fire.

"What is troubling you?"

The arguments had been so circular that recapping takes less time than I had imagined. The words rush from me so fast I tell him everything in under a minute.

"They need to use me as bait," I finish. "It's the only way Dorian, and Leliana's scouts, can get inside the castle unnoticed. But, if I do this… If I agree to play the role of bait to draw Alexius's attention—"

"You have faced many fears since you stepped out of the Fade," Solas interrupts. "Every time you have ventured out into the world bearing that mark on your hand, you have risked your life and taken it in stride. How is this any different?"

"We're dealing with time magic, Solas. How can we even hope to win against something so powerful?"

He doesn't answer right away. He stares into the flames of the fire, watching the embers dance. "Would you not prefer to save these mages who have found themselves indentured to the power of Tevinter? It is your choice, my lethallan, but this could not get anymore horrific for the people all involved. These mages have fought for their freedom and now find themselves lost. I fear what will become of them if they are left and we go to the remnants of the Templar Order." He looks at me, eyes thoughtful. "In the end, it is your choice what we do and who we seek for help with this tremendous task."

I sigh. That didn't really help.

"Do not take this decision lightly," he adds. "But, in the end, closing the Breach is our primary goal."

Why does he have to speak in such riddles sometimes? I huff, feeling no better about my decision than I had before my feet carried me here.

"But I hope we might also discover what was used to create it. Any artifact of such power is dangerous. The destruction of the Conclave proves that much."

Glad for his weirdly accurate observation skills, I jump at the chance for a subject change. "You don't think whatever created the explosion was destroyed in the blast?"

He smirks. "You survived, did you not?"

"I'm not sure," I laugh. "I may _be_ dead, for all I know. Everything that keeps happening seems to point toward that being the most likely explanation."

He laughs with me. The sound burns in my stomach. "The artifact that created the Breach is unlike anything seen in this age," he continues. "I will not believe it destroyed until I see the shattered fragments with my own eyes."

I remain silent.

"Leliana's people have scoured the area near the blast and found nothing. Whatever the artifact was, it is no longer there."

I let my eyes wander over the cabin, taking even more of it in. I find myself standing, walking over to the nearest book to touch the cover. But I keep moving, past the table where the sketches still lay. I walk the circle, drinking in every detail.

"Find anything of interest?"

I jump. I had been so busy I almost forgot he was still sitting on the floor. "I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean to intrude."

He inclines his head, his eyes serious. "Why don't you tell me more of your life in your clan?"

I pause. "Why?"

"Why not?" he mocks.

I scowl at him, though I make sure to make my eyes light.

He laughs again.

"All right," I say. I stalk over to where he sits, falling heavily to the floor so I face him. "What do you wish to know that I haven't already told?"

"You were the First to your Keeper?"

"Yes. You know that."

A muscle in his jaw flexes. "Truth be told, I did not pay much attention. I was…distracted by other things." His ears turn slightly pink, which makes the back of my neck flush. "The…Dalish way of life makes me a bit…hot-blooded."

"You can say that again," I mutter.

"But you have my full attention. So, please, proceed."

"You promise not to make fun of what I've been told?"

"I swear it."

I return the smile he gives me. "Yes. I was the First to our clan. But my training had barely begun by the time my Keeper asked me to come observe the dealings at the Conclave."

"So you were a fledgling at the cusp of your training?"

I nod. "I…she started my training late. By the time she had started, I was nearly the same age as those who normally have completed their lessons." I frown. "She never would tell me why she waited so long."

"Why did your Keeper decide to send you? Why not one of your hunters, or one of your warriors?"

I blink, surprised at the burning behind my eyes. "My Keeper…she feared magic. I know that now. I was curious, the most curious of her trainees. I think she feared what I would become if I stayed." I think of Mihris. That adventure seems ages ago, now. "I think she feared I would become possessed, or summon a demon, because of my curiosity about the Fade."

He says nothing, as he promised.

"I was also the most friendly with the shemlen villagers we traded with. The others had a tendency to say the wrong thing, act rashly."

"You did not?"

I shake my head. "I tried my best to be…kind. To all I spoke with. Where one of my clan would see nothing but a flat-ear, I would see a fellow elf deprived of the knowledge and ways of our ancestors." My mouth twitches. "At least, out loud I did."

His eyes are curious when I look at them. I know the answer hiding in their depths without him speaking.

"You were a flat-ear in my mind for a long time, even if I only ever called you it once."

"When did that change?"

I shrug. "I cannot say. It was before Mihris, at least."

His mouth twitches and I know he thinks of my rage, so unexpected. He then sighs. "It is a shame."

"What is?"

"That your clan would suppress a soul such as yours out of something as baseless as fear. That they feared you enough to send you away under the pretense of knowledge about the Conclave."

My heart is hammering again, that flush spreading up into my cheeks. "Do you wish they hadn't sent me? Sent one of our hunters in my stead?"

He's looking back at the fire once again. Slowly, he shakes his head. "No. I would wish for no one else to have stepped out of the Fade."

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.

"If only so you could grow, spread your wings outside of a clan that did not cherish what they had."

Part of me knows he added the last bit to cover the meaning behind his words. The pink tainting his ears gives that away. It makes my hands shake in my lap.

Solas looks up, his eyebrows furrowed. "It is late. You should head back to your own cabin. We don't want to give Sera reason to gossip."

I stand. "Thank you, hahren. May you dream sweet dreams."

I feel his eyes on me as I walk toward the door. As it closes behind me, I swear I hear a whispered, "Thank you," drift after me.

* * *

It takes me a few days to fully understand what Solas had been trying to tell me. His advice hadn't been to sway me one direction or another, but merely to help me see what already weighed on my heart. That, no matter the risk, freeing the mages from the slavery they faced was just as important to me as sealing the Breach. Fear of death shouldn't cloud that revelation.

Our spare time passes fast and soon, Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and I journey back to Redcliffe. Dorian had already said he would meet us after the Inquisition scouts infiltrated the castle.

The four of us are let in. I lead, pushing aside the fear flooding my being.

A Tevinter guard waits for us just inside the doors.

"Announce us," I declare.

A man walks up, one of the rebel mages I guess by his robes. "The Magister's invitation was for Mistress Lavellan and no one else." He nods his head toward the others. "You lot wait here."

I set my shoulders back, narrowing my eyes. "Where I go, they go."

The man frowns, his pale eyebrows furrowing together. He looks at Cassandra, who stands just behind me. When he looks back to me, my newly gained experience and confidence guides me to hold his gaze, unyielding.

He finally nods.

He leads us to the end of the great hall. Alexius sits on the Arl's throne at the end, Felix at his side. Fiona stands in front of him. Her expression holds a defeat that seems to have taken over her features in the few days since our last meeting.

The man whom had greeted us at the doors turns toward the Magister. "My lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived."

Alexius stands. "My friend! It's so good to see you again." His eyes dart to my companions. "And your associates, of course. I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

Fiona walks up then, her eyes finally showing some hints of defiance. "Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"

Alexius smiles that coy smirk. "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives."

I incline my head. "If the Grand Enchanter wants to be a part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition."

Her eyes widen as she looks at me. "Thank you," she says.

Alexius's hands twitch. He turns and slowly walks back toward the throne. Cassandra and I exchange a quick look while his back is turned. I take the brief moment to breathe, calming my mind.

"The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

We had already talked about what I was going to say to this inevitable question. "Nothing at all," I say simply. "I'm just going to take the mages and leave."

His eyes narrow. "And how do you imagine you'll accomplish such a feat?"

Felix turns toward him. My heart starts racing.

"She knows everything, Father."

The seconds after those words are spoken are as quiet as death. The Venatori guards standing throughout the hall don't even move.

Alexius's face falls. "Felix, what have you done?"

"We made sure to disarm your trap before we came in," I say, holding my voice steady. "I hope you don't mind."

The Magister looks back at me with anger in his gaze. "I've yet to see your cleverness, I'm afraid." He stands, his hands shaking. "You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don't even understand—and think you're in control?! You're nothing but a mistake."

A shock rushes through my body. Excitement and fear flood me. "If you know so much, enlighten me. Tell me what this mark on my hand is for."

"It belongs to your betters. You wouldn't even begin to understand its purpose."

"Father, listen to yourself!" Felix exclaims. "Do you know what you sound like?"

Dorian's voice echoes through the room. "He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be."

Alexius watches as Dorian walks into the room. His eyes burn. "Dorian," he whispers. "I gave you a chance to be apart of this. You turned me down."

Dorian comes to stand next to me.

"The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

My heart leaps despite myself. "That's who you serve? The one who killed the Divine? Is he a mage?" I speak too fast, too intent on finally getting answers to questions I've long pondered.

The Magister's eyes gleam with madness. "Soon he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas."

He will become a god? My skin crawls in disgust. This…this is definitely taking a sudden turn for the worst.

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona screams, her face contorted with horror.

Dorian steps toward him. "Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen! Why would you support this?"

Felix reaches out for Alexius. "Stop it, Father. Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home."

When the Magister turns, his face is full of sadness, eyes dark. "No! It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"

The shock that rolls through my body is mirrored in Felix's eyes. This is why he was doing this? To save his son from whatever illness he suffers from?

Felix takes a step back, his eyebrows raised. "Save me?!"

"There _is_ a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…" The Magister looks at me then.

"I'm going to die. You need to accept that," Felix pleads.

Alexius ignores him. "Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this woman's life!"

But no one comes.

I turn, looking around the hall in time to see the Venatori falling to their knees. Leliana's scouts appear from behind them, holding daggers, swords, bows, the blood of the Venatori dripping onto the floor.

The Magister takes two steps back when I turn back to him. "Your men are dead, Alexius."

His face contorts again, tainted with fear this time. "You…are a mistake! You never should have existed!"

He raises his hand. Dorian jumps in front of me as Alexius's hand begins to glow with a sickening green light.

"No!" Dorian screams. I feel his mana surge with power as he throws his magic at Alexius.

The air explodes. I fall back. But my body never hits the floor.

* * *

**So, I realize that in the IHW mission, you can only bring 2 people with you plus the mandatory Dorian. But to me, this seemed a bit strange. At this point, you have to assume that the Herald's deeds have spread pretty far, and if they're always accompanied with 3 others, then them showing up to Redcliffe with only 2 would've been too suspicious. Especially considering that apparently she's been watched so closely by both Alexius and the Elder One. So, since I can basically tweak the story how I want, I decided to have an extra companion come to counteract that :)**


	14. Abomination

14 - Abomination

Water surrounds me when I regain my footing. It laps up around my thighs, drenching me from the waist down in seconds. I shake my head, trying to clear my vision. I glance around, eyes wandering over the stone walls and metal bars.

It looks like we're in a dungeon. Red lyrium glows like vines up the walls and across the ceiling.

"Blood of the Elder One!"

"Where'd they come from?!"

I jump back in surprise. The two men who spoke wear armor I do not recognize, their faces hidden by large metal helmets. They instantly charge.

I realize then that Dorian is with me. We nod, stand together as we cast our mana. Dorian's flame spirals around them, my wards protecting us from their swords. I push out with my mind, throwing the men back before their swords have a chance to slice. I swing my staff, lightning joining with Dorian's fire to bring them down. We don't stop until their bodies float in the water.

Dorian wipes his brow. "Displacement? Interesting!"

"What?" I mutter.

He looks up at me. It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us…to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?" He walks over to where the guards float, faces down in the water.

My heart hammers against my ribs so hard it aches. What happened? What is he babbling about? "The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall."

He stands, wiping his hands of the man's blood. "Let's see. If we're still in the castle, it isn't…" His eyes go suddenly blank. "Oh! Of course!" He smiles as he refocuses on me. "It's not simply where—it's when!"

I realize my mouth is hanging open and quickly close it. This has to be a joke. A very bad, very not funny joke.

"Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!"

Amulet? What amulet? I hadn't seen any amulet. My body feels like it's floating. Blood rushes like a river in my ears. "Did we go forward in time or back, and how far?" The words rush from me in one breath.

"Those are…_excellent_ questions. We'll have to find out, won't we?" He glances around the room. "Let's look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back…if we can." His eyebrows furrow.

I glance around the room too, trying to gather myself amidst my growing panic. Where did everyone go? "There had been others in the hall. Could they have been drawn through the rift?"

He shakes his head. "I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through. Alexius wouldn't risk catching himself or Felix in it. They're probably still where, or when, we left them. In some sense, anyway."

Solas. Varric. Cassandra. My heart aches.

Dorian reaches out, steadying me. I hadn't realized I was swaying. "Let's go, shall we?"

I nod.

I was right to assume we were in a dungeon. It reeks of neglect. I follow Dorian through the cell door the guards had burst through when we appeared.

We make our way passed more cells to a door at the other end of the corridor. I push it open, climb stairs. At the top, more of the red lyrium winds its way through the walls, jutting out in great pillars that pulse and sing for me. Some of the chunks of it take up entire corridors and we're forced to squeeze by, careful not to touch it. I notice then that the lyrium is warm, emitting a wave of heat like a crackling fire.

We talk as we wind our way through the corridors.

"Alexius mentioned an 'Elder One' in the hall," I say. "Do you know who he was talking about?"

"Leader of the Venatori, I suspect," he says, shrugging. "Some Magister aspiring to godhood. It's the same old tune." He puts on a higher pitched, mocking voice. "'Let's play with magic we don't understand. It will make us incredibly powerful!'" He shakes his head again, spitting at the ground . "Evidently, it doesn't matter if you rip apart the fabric of time in the process."

I'm trying and failing to reign that confidence back in. I can feel my body shaking, my hands twisting. "What was Alexius trying to do?"

"I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely. If that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One's plan." He inclines his head. "I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild, and here we are. Make sense?"

Not really. I take a deep breath. "It just seems so insane."

He sighs as well. "I don't even want to _think_ of what this will do to the fabric of the world. We didn't 'travel' through time so much as punch a hole through it and toss it in the privy."

I'm still shaking.

"But don't worry," he says. "I'm here. I'll protect you."

Oh gods. This_ can't_ be real. "And what happens if we _can't_ get back?"

He sneers just the slightest. "Then we get comfortable in our new present."

No. We _have_ to get back. The desire to burns at my skin.

We follow the corridors, up past even more cells. Eventually, we reach a room where I can hear someone chanting.

A flat-ear man stands inside a cell with a boulder of the red lyrium. I recognize him, I realize. He'd been the one to greet us when we came into Redcliffe. I never asked his name. His body seems to glow from within, red tendrils of power emanating from his being. The chanting comes from his lips in an endless stream of words.

"Andraste blessed me, Andraste blessed me… My tears are my sins, my sins, my sins…"

"Hello?" I whisper.

"Andraste guide me, Andraste guide me…" he sobs.

"Can you hear me?"

"Andraste blessed me, Andraste blessed me…"

Oh by the Dread Wolf…what kind of world is this?

Dorian's hand on my shoulder pulls me back. "We can do nothing for him."

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

We keep moving.

"Alexius has made a dreadful mess of this place, hasn't he?" He says.

"I…I didn't see this part of the castle." My voice drips with fake sarcasm.

"It was covered in the tackiest carvings of wolves and dogs I'd ever seen. This…" he sighs, "is not an improvement."

He reminds me a bit of Varric. I like him, I decide, Tevinter or no.

I follow Dorian as we try to make sense of the maze of these dungeons. Some paths split, some lead to dead ends, some are blocked by pillars of red lyrium. Dorian doesn't even seem to be able to make heads nor tails of it cause of the drastic changes.

Finally, we find more stairs that lead up into a large room whose bottom we cannot see. We stand on a large metal floor, suspended high over the blackness below.

Guards immediately charge at us. I silently remind myself to thank Solas if we ever see him again for the strength of my wards. Without his training, their swords would have taken us down without issue.

The path directly in front of us is inaccessible, due to the bridge not being lowered, so we take one of the corridors off to the side. It leads to yet more corridors, more cells. We have no choice but to follow the stairs down.

I can hear a voice coming from one of the offshoots. I walk through, follow the voice to the end of the room to the last cell.

It's Grand Enchanter Fiona, her body merged with a chunk of red lyrium. When I see her, I gasp.

She looks at me. Her eyes go wide. "You're…alive?!" She exclaims. "How!" Her every breath seems to cause her great pain. Her face contorts with it. "I saw you…disappear…into the rift."

What has happened to her?! What kind of world is this, that red lyrium sprouts from peoples' bodies like fountains of stone?! I don't even know what to say. My body seems to have gone numb. "Is…that red lyrium growing from your body?! How?"

Her face strains with concentration. "The longer you're near it…eventually…you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more."

Was this our fault? For disappearing, as Fiona said we did?

My body shudders.

"Can you tell us the date?" Dorian says, "It's very important."

Her eyes narrow and go unfocused. "Harvestmere…9:42 Dragon."

"Nine forty-_two_?" Dorian looks at me. "Then we've missed an entire year." His voice hitches at the end.

A _year_?! It seems so long yet so short. _This_ is what has happened in as little as a year? "We have to get out of here. Go back in time."

Fiona gasps in pain. "Please…stop this from happening. Alexius…serves the Elder One. More powerful…than the Maker…no one…challenges him and lives."

My blood starts to boil. Is this what the Magister wanted? This chaos? This pain?

I clench my fists. "That Magister's going to regret he didn't just kill me."

Dorian places his hand on my shoulder. "Our only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here. If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left." He grimaces. "Maybe."

Fiona manages a small smile. "Good."

"I said _maybe_," Dorian says. "It might also turn us into paste."

"You _must_ try. Your spymaster, Leliana…she is here."

Leliana is here?! There's hope, then.

"Find her. Quickly…before the Elder One…learns you're here."

I turn to Dorian. "If Fiona and Leliana are here…"

"Let's find them," he says.

We turn and leave. My entire being shakes in desperation now. We _have_ to search these cells.

"If red lyrium is an infection…" Dorian shudders. "Maker, why is it coming out of the walls?"

"Are you sure you want to find out?" I ask.

We keep moving, listening for any signs of life. They _have_ to be here. I know it, can feel it inside me.

Then I hear it: humming.

I run toward it, recognition hitting me as I get closer. "Varric!" I yell.

He looks over his shoulder. That same pulsing light is emanating from within him that had tainted the flat-ear. His glowing red eyes widen as he looks up at me. "Andraste's sacred knickers. You're alive?" He stands. Luckily, it seems the lyrium hasn't yet started to grow from outside of him. "Where were you? How did you escape?"

"We didn't escape," Dorian answers. "Alexius sent us into the future."

Varric smirks. He almost seems like his other self, if it weren't for the pulses of red energy surrounding him. "Everything that happens to you is weird."

I laugh feebly. "You might be right about that."

"I'm always right. And when I'm not, I lie about it." He rolls his shoulders back. "So what are you doing here? Or did you come back to trade quips with me?"

"We get to Alexius, and I _might_ be able to send us back to our own time." Dorian smirks back at him. "Simple, really."

Varric's face falls just slightly. "That…may not be as easy as you think. Alexius is just a servant. His 'Elder One' assassinated the Empress and led a demon army in a huge invasion of the South. The Elder One rules everything." He frowns. "What's left of it, anyway. Alexius…is not really the one you need to worry about."

I shake my head, laughing in spite of the dread rushing through my chest. "Assassinations, invasions, and demon armies? I'm a little glad I missed all that."

He chuckles. "Yeah, you lucked out there. You want to take on Alexius? I'm in. Let's go."

"Right," I say. "Let's go, then."

I'm slightly more desperate in my searching, now. If Varric had survived, then Cassandra and Solas…

We find Cassandra next, kneeling on the floor of her cell.

"Cassandra," I sigh in relief.

She looks up at us and gasps. "You've returned to us. Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?" She casts her glowing eyes downward. "Maker forgive me. I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life."

"I'm not back from the dead, Cassandra. I just got…well, this is hard to explain."

"I was there," she says, her voice shaking. "The Magister obliterated you with a gesture."

Dorian shrugs. "Alexius sent us forward in time. If we find him, we may be able to return to the present."

She finally stands, her eyes showing the first signs of hope. "Go back in time? Then…can you make it so that none of this ever took place?"

"If Dorian is right and can actually reverse the spell, then yes."

"Alexius's master…after you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered. The army that swept in afterwards—it was a horde of demons. Nothing stopped them. Nothing."

The sadness in her face, her voice… I can't stop the tears from building in my own eyes. "I should have been there to help you."

She reaches forward, grabbing my hand. "You're here now."

"Let's get out of here," Varric says.

I nod, pulling Cassandra with us.

My heart is pounding. Where is Solas? He _has_ to be here. I push forward, searching with a madness I cannot contain. Varric senses my tension and offers to help search some of the other cells.

"Please," I say. "We can't leave him here in this." My voice cracks.

"We'll find him," Cassandra says.

I'm running through the rooms, throwing open cells. "Solas!" I cry in frustration.

There's movement in the last cell: bare feet scraping against stone. I scramble toward the sound.

And then he's there, turning toward me. He jumps back as I throw myself against the bars of his cell. I fumble with the lock, throw the door open.

I don't even bother to stop myself. If we manage to go back, he won't even remember anyway. I fall into him, wrapping my arms around him.

"Lethallan!" He says, his voice burning. He grabs me and pushes me back to stare into my face. "You're alive?!" He shakes me. "We saw you die!"

Dorian seems to have caught up to me. "The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time. We just got here, so to speak."

Solas pulls me out of the cell and I don't resist. I can concentrate only on his hand wrapped around mine. "Can you reverse the process? You could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late…"

He believes it so readily. "I'm glad you understood what he just said because I'm still not sure I do."

The way he subtly pulls me just the slightest bit closer, as if he would never let go again, makes my heart soar. How is it possible to find this small bit of happiness in such madness? "You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong. But you know nothing of this world. It is far worse than you understand."

I nod, knowing how much this has to end. Even if he never holds me like this again.

"We already filled them in, Chuckles."

Varric and Cassandra have found us.

"You guys are just brimming with good news," I mutter.

Solas looks down at me. "If you can return to your present, you might find it helpful to know what the Elder One plans. This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass."

"I know," I whisper.

"Then let's now dawdle, shall we?" Dorian says.

Solas doesn't move right away. He continues to hold me against him. "I was so sure you died, lethallan." My heart starts to hum in my chest when he leans down, just enough to touch his forehead to mine.

And then he's gone. I breathe out, letting the tension in my body flow from my mouth. Stupid flat-ear. Why did the world have to be destroyed for him to do this to me?

I push my shoulders back and walk from the room, joining the others.

We all push through together, back toward the room where the floor floats. We work to pull down the bridge so we can cross.

These _have _to be torture chambers. Nothing else would hold such despair and pain. And I can hear voices, people being interrogated. I burst into the rooms where the voices come, casting down lightning on the Venatori. But we're too late. The people they torture are killed before we can get to them in time.

If we can just get back…

And then I hear my name.

"Tell me how Lavellan knew of the sacrifice at the Temple."

"Never!" I hear a slap and Leliana cries out in pain.

"There's no use to this defiance, little bird. There's no one left for you to protect."

"You're wasting your breath," she growls.

Another slap. "Talk! The Elder One demands answers!"

Her laugh is full of madness. "He'll get used to disappointment."

"You will break!" He screams.

"I will _die_ first!"

We reach the door then and I throw it open.

The Leliana hanging by her wrists is not the Leliana from my time. Her pretty face is marred, pitted, aged. Her hair hangs lank around her hollowed cheeks.

The main interrogating her has a knife to her throat, but our entrance causes him to turn.

"Or you will," Leliana says.

She swings her legs up, wrapping them around the man's neck. He gasps, grabbing at her as she pulls him close. She gives one violent twist.

He falls to the floor.

I rush to his body, patting it down for the keys to her shackles.

"You're alive!" She gasps.

Her arms drop limply to her sides as I set her free. "We never died in the first place. Alexius miscalculated."

"Then it will be his last mistake. Do you have weapons?"

I nod.

"Good. The Magister's probably in his chambers."

Cassandra looks away from Leliana as if she cannot handle what she sees. Varric grimaces behind her back. Solas remains stoic, his eyes brimming with hope.

Leliana pushes past Dorian, who watches her cross the room with a cautious look on his face. "You…aren't curious how we got here?"

"No," she answers simply as she stands, bow now slung across her back.

"Alexius sent us into the future. This. His victory. His Elder One—it was never meant to be," he continues.

I look at Leliana, feel the urgency for us to get back more than ever. My chest is heavy with it. "I'm so sorry for everything you suffered," I whisper.

"We have to reverse his spell. If we can get back to our present time, we can prevent this future from ever happening."

Leliana scoffs at him. "And mages always wonder why people fear them… No one should have this power."

"It's dangerous and unpredictable," Dorian says. "Before the Breach, nothing we did—"

"Enough!"

She doesn't yell, but the authority in her voice cuts him short.

"This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist." Her eyes narrow, her brows furrowing as her lips purse. "I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real."

My heart sinks. It's true, what she says. Up until that moment, this world, this _future_, was just a mistake. Something that was never supposed to happen. But my friends…the people of Thedas…they had lived it, suffered for the last year…

I narrow my eyes, setting my shoulders back. Dorian says nothing else, letting her lead the way out of the room.

It's a struggle to make our way up to the higher portions of the castle. Venatori block us at every turn, mages summon demons in the halls. But, with six of us charging through, there isn't much that can stop us.

We reach the courtyard to find a sky turned green.

"The Breach!" I gasp. "It's…everywhere."

"The Veil is shattered," Solas says. "There is no boundary now between the world and the Fade."

Varric whistles. "Used to be, it was only dwarves who were afraid of the sky. Now, it's just good sense."

Demons freely roam the courtyard. We work together to take them down and then I reach for the smaller rift hanging over our head, pulling it until it closes in a mighty blast. And then there's another one, more demons rushing at us.

Once we make our way back inside, Dorian looks at Leliana. "What became of Felix? Do you know?"

"Yes, I know."

"And you're not going to tell me?"

She sighs, a tired sound. "You'll find out soon enough."

The story Leliana then tells of the state of the world makes my skin prickle in anticipation. Solas was right. This world is an abomination.

We finally find the door the Magister must be hiding behind. It's massive, locked by five special keys.

"Maker's breath!" Dorian yells. "Where did Alexius find this? How did he even move it here?"

"Can we open it?" I ask.

"Perhaps, but it looks quite strong." Dorian strokes his chin. "How desperate and paranoid must he be? His servants must have a way through. He has to eat. Let's look around."

"Look at what you've done, Alexius!" I scream. "All this suffering, and for what?!"

The Magister stands in front of his fireplace, his back to us. He doesn't even look over his shoulder. "For my country, for my son… But it means nothing now." His voice is thick with sadness. "I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you." He sighs, defeated. "My final failure."

"Was it worth it?" Dorian whispers. "Everything you did to the world? To yourself?" There's pain in his voice, too.

"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end."

I look back at my friends, standing behind me. At their marred faces, their gaunt eyes. "It _does_ matter. I will undo this."

"How many times have I tried? The past cannot be undone. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought?" He shakes his head. "Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all."

Just how many times _has_ he done this to us?

Leliana suddenly appears next to him, pulling up the man kneeling at Alexius's feet, holding a knife to his throat.

The Magister jumps back in alarm, holding out his hand in surrender. "Felix!" He cries.

Dorian sucks in a sharp breath at the same time I gasp. "That's _Felix_! Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?!"

Felix looks like a walking corpse, his skin rotted and peeling away. A ghoul, I realize in horror. That's what he's become. A Blight infected person who managed to survive the initial illness. There's a similarity to his features in Leliana's face. Is that what they'd done to her in this future? Used her to experiment with the Blight to cure Felix?

"He would have died, Dorian! I _saved_ him!" Alexius turns to Leliana. "Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask."

"Hand over the amulet, and we let him go!" I yell.

"Let him go, and I swear you'll get what you want."

Leliana's eyes are hard. They show no fear, no hesitation. "_I_ want the world back."

Her dagger slides across Felix's throat.

"No!" Alexius gasps as Felix's body falls to the ground.

Tears fill his eyes as he stares down at what remains of Felix. He sobs, shaking his head. His body starts to shake.

He turns back toward us, his face contorted with rage and sadness. "NO!" He screams.

Mana surges from his body, throwing us back. I hit the ground hard, gasping as the air rushes from my lungs. I cough and then quickly pull myself up, swinging my staff to guide my lightning toward him.

It doesn't take long for me to realize just how powerful this man is, even in his rage. I fight like I've never fought before, manipulating my mana with deliberation and speed.

Over and over, Alexius lifts an amulet into the air. Green light springs from his hand, converging into the air to open a rift. Demons pour into the room, charging at us as Alexius continues casting his magic. I work hard, pulling at the rifts in the air until they burst into nothingness.

Sweat drips down my face as I swing my staff. My body shakes with the effort of using so much magic in such a short amount of time. My hand throbs, the mark flaring each time a rift is opened above our heads.

Finally, the magic in the air stills. I barely keep myself from collapsing in exhaustion.

Dorian walks up to where Alexius lay, his body unmoving. "He wanted to die, didn't he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications… He lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius…"

The sadness on his face reminds me that this man had once been a mentor of Dorian's. A close friend. How would I feel, having to kill the person who taught me so much?

"This Alexius was too far gone," I whisper. "But the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with."

His eyes still shine with sadness. "I suppose that's true." He looks down at his hand, at the stone he had pulled off of Alexius's body. "It's the same amulet he used before. I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief."

I close my eyes, breathing for just a moment.

"Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift."

Leliana stalks up to us, her face twisted in shock. "An hour? That's impossible! You must go now!"

As if to emphasize her words, the castle floor shakes. A great screech rolls through the halls, filling the air. It vibrates in my chest, in my veins. I throw my hands over my ears.

I look at everyone in turn. Cassandra's eyes are wide in fear. Solas's jaw is set. Varric looks worried for the first time ever.

Leliana looks at me. "The Elder One."

Solas's red eyes blaze with the fear painted so clearly on his face. "You cannot stay here!"

Cassandra, Varric, and Solas all look at each other. Slowly, they nod.

"We'll hold the outer door," Solas says, his face pained. "When they get passed us, it'll be your turn." He looks to Leliana.

I realize what they're saying and it hits my stomach like a ton of bricks. "I can't let you kill yourselves for me. There must be another way…"

"Look at us," Leliana sighs. "We're already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes."

Varric and Cassandra turn, heading toward the door.

"No," I whisper, meeting Solas's gaze.

"Yes, lethallan," he whispers back. "It is the only way."

I know in my heart it's true. Tears fall freely down my cheeks as he turns and walks after Varric and Cassandra.

"Cast your spell," Leliana says. "You have as much time as I have arrows."

Solas pulls the door closed behind him. I swear I see the shine of a tear rolling down his cheek as he nods his head at me one more time.

I close my eyes, let one sob burst through my lips. Then I seal it away, locking the sadness in my heart deep in my being. I turn back to Dorian.

Time seems to stand still. Dorian struggles to find whatever spell Alexius had used on the amulet. The castle walls shake more and more, the growling growing deeper and deeper.

Soon, I can hear the sounds of battle outside of the door. Feel the rumble of destruction blasting its way to us.

"Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame."

I watch Leliana ready her bow as she speaks.

Screaming. So much screaming. Cassandra, Varric, and Solas fight for our chance to leave. I can hear it in the desperation in their voices. Hear it when they're finally overcome.

The door bursts open. Demons pour inside. I see Varric get thrown through the door, his body unmoving. The sight of it makes my stomach lurch.

"Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side." Arrows fly from Leliana's bow. Demons and Venatori drop to the floor.

My body is shaking. I can barely stand with the force of my trembling.

Leliana screams as an arrow pierces her shoulder.

I don't even realize I've stepped toward her until Dorian grabs me, pulling me back. "You move and we all die!"

Leliana keeps fighting, swinging her bow like a sword, bashing it into the people that converge on her.

It'll all be over soon, I tell myself. This isn't real. This will never have happened.

I feel the surge of power behind me as Dorian completes the spell. The rift begins to open, swirling.

Leliana gasps. I look at her, watch as one of the men grabs her around the neck, pinning her to his chest.

Her face is suddenly calm. She nods at me.

I turn away just as I hear the blade slide across her throat. And then all is gone.


	15. Tensions

**Mazzax: oh yes, it is kinda weird. I got the impression that they were just in a hurry to get back and only ask questions they 100% needed answers to (like the assassination of the Empress and the demon army). They do get some minor need-to-know info about the Elder One from Fiona and the others. Maybe it's something they ask Leliana when walking around? I mostly skipped that banter because the chapter was already really long. It's probably just something I missed, to be honest, and didn't think of adding in myself.**

**Oh, also for those of you who know all the spoilers, please refrain from posting major ones in reviews! It hasn't happened yet and I know this is being asked late (for those later who may post one before they get to this chapter), but I have friends/family interested in reading who haven't played the game yet so obviously they don't know everything. If you have, by chance, left a major spoiler in a review, could you please edit and remove it? I mean, you don't have to but I would like them to experience this heartache and major twist for themselves... hehehe**

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15 - Tensions

We're back in the castle hall, Alexius backing away from us with fear in his eyes.

"You'll have to do better than that," Dorian says, stepping toward him.

Alexius sinks to his knees.

It worked. It's over. None of it ever happened. The relief that floods into my body is like a high I've never experienced. "Is that the best you've got?" I ask, not even bothering to stop the laugh from escaping my lips.

Alexius sighs. "You won. There is no point extending this charade."

I feel wonderfully, beautifully alive.

Alexius turns to his son. "Felix…"

Felix walks up to his father, kneels down next to him. "It's going to be all right, Father."

"You'll die." Alexius shakes his head, tears falling down his face.

"Everyone dies." But there's fear there, behind Felix's smile.

Alexius's face falls into his hands as he sobs.

Inquisition soldiers come up behind him, pulling him to his feet. He doesn't fight. He holds his shoulders high, lifts his chin up. He follows the soldiers, tears still staining his cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad that's over with!" Dorian laughs.

His laughter is cut short when more soldiers stomp their way into the hall. They march down the corridor, spacing out down the entire length before going still. I don't recognize the colors they wear.

"Or not," Dorian whispers.

A man comes walking down the corridor. I recognize him from pictures my Keeper had shown me. There's no mistaking the blond hair, the playful twinkle in his eyes. I barely suppress my gasp of surprise.

"Grand Enchanter," the man starts. "Imagine how surprised I was to learn you'd given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter Magister."

Fiona walks up to him, her hands twisting in front of her. She suddenly seems small, diminished. "King Alistair."

"Especially since I'm fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan."

"Your Majesty, we never intended…"

"I know what you intended." King Alistair's voice drops to a whisper. "I wanted to help you. But you've made it impossible." He shakes his head, his eyes hardening. "You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden."

Fiona takes a step back in horror. "But, we have hundreds who need protection. Where will we go?"

I step forward then, taking my chance. "I should point out that we did come here for mages to close the Breach."

She looks at me. I see the fear in her eyes, wondering if I will be nothing more than Alexius had turned out to be. "And what are the terms of this arrangement?" Fiona's eyes pierce mine.

"Hopefully," Dorian says, "better than what Alexius gave you." He looks at me, eyebrows raised. "The Inquisition is better than that, yes?"

I hesitate, looking over my shoulder to where my friends stand.

Cassandra shakes her head. "I suggest conscripting them. They've proven what they'll do if given too much freedom."

"They have lost all possible supporters," Solas says, his voice soft. "The Inquisition is their only remaining chance for freedom."

Varric just shrugs. "I've known a lot of mages. They can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who make bad decisions, but still. Loyal."

I look back at Fiona.

"It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer," she says.

Why does this have to be _my_ decision?

I think for a moment, feeling the weight of this resting on my chest. I cannot be rash, cannot seem unsure about where we go from here… Fiona was foolish, yes, in agreeing to let Tevinter in so readily. But Alexius also had time magic on his side. How many times had he reset time to get the outcome he wanted? Hadn't he implied that's what he'd done in the dark future we escaped?

I nod, deciding. "We would be honored to have you fight as our allies at the Inquisition's side."

Fiona looks startled by my words. "I'll pray the rest of the Inquisition honors your promise, then."

"The Breach threatens all of Thedas," I say. "We cannot afford to be divided now. We can't fight it without you. Any chance of success requires your full support."

King Alistair nods his head. "I'd take that offer, if I were you. One way or another you're leaving my kingdom."

Fiona looks at me, her eyes bright, traces of the strength I saw in them back in Val Royeaux starting to seep back into her gaze. "We accept. It would be madness not to. I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven." She smiles, real hope lighting her face. "The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance."

Not another word is said. I look back at my friends.

Cassandra looks…conflicted. Solas, proud. And Varric…like he wants nothing more than to get back to Haven and hear what happened to me inside that rift.

Dorian joins us on our way back to Haven. Since we hadn't brought a fifth horse, I suggest he rides with me. I can't help but notice that Solas gives me a strange look at this but he says nothing. Dorian and I trade each day who steers and who gets to sit back and enjoy the scenery.

During the trip back to Haven, Cassandra presses us for every detail of what happened in the alternate future we experienced. Dorian and I fill them in on everything: the destruction of the Veil, the assassination of the Empress, the demon army. The only thing I leave out is my embarrassing fawning over the Solas of the future, something that Dorian doesn't miss, by the look he gives me over his shoulder.

Dorian is great company, I discover. He's a bit flamboyant and dramatic in his retellings, but I genuinely enjoy the time sharing my horse with him. It doesn't take long for me to see I could easily become great friends with this man, no matter his origins.

I don't get the chance to rest once back in Haven. Cassandra and I join the advisors in the Chantry, the events having passed too important to leave for morning. Immediately, the arguments ensue at what fate I had given the mages.

"It is not a matter for debate," Cullen yells. "There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!"

Josephine gives an exasperated sigh. "If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst."

Cullen turns his rage on me. "What were you thinking, turning the mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!"

"We're _not_ monsters," I say, holding my ground. "We can control ourselves without any outside help."

"This is not an issue of self-control! Even the strongest mages can be overcome by demons in conditions like these!"

Cassandra waves her hands. "Enough arguing! We cannot afford to second-guess our people. The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished."

"The voice of pragmatism speaks!"

I sigh, rubbing my head as Dorian stalks into the room, leaning up against one of the pillars.

"And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments," he says.

Cassandra turns to him. "Closing the Breach is all that matters."

"Closing the Breach will require a lot of magic, and that means lyrium," I say. "I've gained contacts who can help."

Leliana smirks. "'Contacts' meaning smugglers?" Her eyes show her delight at the prospect. "Send them word. We need every advantage."

"We have legitimate lyrium supply lines already," Cullen says, shaking his head.

"And they don't need to hear of this," Leliana replies.

Josephine barely keeps the snarl off her face. "Keep it under the table, and I'll do what I can to quiet rumors."

"We should look into the things you saw in this 'dark future.' The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?" Leliana clasps her hands in front of her.

Dorian cocks his head, his mustache twitching with his smirk. "Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!"

"One battle at a time," Cullen says, ignoring him. "It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let's take this to the War Room." He then looks at me, the anger in his eyes softening. "Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all."

I roll my eyes. "And I'd hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk…"

He smiles at me for the first time since recounting our mission. "What is it they say? 'No rest for the wicked?'"

"Meet us there in the morning," Josephine says.

Dorian lets out a big, exaggerated sigh. "I'll skip the war council, but I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don't mind."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Then you're…staying?"

"Oh, didn't I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces."

My heart soars. I've become quite attached to him in the last five days. I laugh. "There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future or present."

He flourishes his arms. "Excellent choice! But let's not get 'stranded' again anytime soon, yes?"

Cullen cuts in. "I'll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory."

Leliana hangs back as the others make their way to the War Room.

"I applaud you for the courage to stand up for the mages," she says, once everyone is out of earshot.

"In Redcliffe, you sacrificed yourself so that I could return here."

She laughs. "Of course I did! One small life in exchange for a second chance at history? I always loved a bargain."

"It was still a sacrifice and still noble."

"And I would do it again."

She then leaves, quiet as a mouse.

"I'm glad you're staying, Dorian," I say, turning toward him once she's gone.

"Of course you are! I'm ever so much the best of company. Haven't you noticed?"

I roll my eyes, shoving him. "Just make sure you don't float away with that big head of yours, so full of itself."

He laughs. "Oh, don't worry about that. I've yet to float away." He then stops to stroke his chin. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to see this Breach for myself. I'm guessing I shall see you around?"

"Of course. I'll talk to you later."

And then he's gone.

I let my feet wander over to the tavern. Once I make it inside, I spot Sera sitting at a table. She looks sullen.

"Well, that's mages all over," she says. "So many robes. I bet all of Ferelden lost their curtains." She shakes her head, twisting her hands nervously. "I'll just be on the other side of Haven. Just in case."

I join her at her table. "Do you have a problem with our new allies? With mages?"

"No problem with mages. You're fine, right? My problem is _magic_. If mages sat on their hands, everything would be fine." She shrugs. "I mean, yay, freedom. Great for them. Over there. Away from me."

Her words hurt more than I expect. There's a darkness to her stare that makes me fidget in my seat. "Not all magic is bad, Sera."

She says nothing, just fiddles with her cup.

I sigh. "All right, then," I say, not really liking the way her eyes are narrowed just the slightest bit at me.

She stares blankly into the void of her drink. Watches it swirl.

"I'll…talk to you later." The tension is palpable.

"Go on," she mutters.

My heart falls. I wasn't expecting this from her, what with all her talk of sticking it to the big guys and helping the little people. Weren't mages part of those "little people?" It makes me uneasy, and scared.

Solas waves me down when he sees me walking out of the tavern. I ignore the fluttering of my stomach.

"So, we have gained the mages. Excellent. They should be able to seal the Breach." He leans against his staff, his eyes unfocused. "Are you certain you experienced time travel? Could it have been an illusion, a trick of the Fade?"

"I'm quite sure."

"What an amazing gift. It is vital the Inquisition succeed, to avoid the future you witnessed."

Just like the Solas of the future, he doesn't hesitate to believe. "Most people have trouble wrapping their heads around the idea."

"I'm not most people."

"I appreciate you talking with me about it. And…not being most people." I ignore the flush creeping up my neck.

He laughs. "If you wish to speak of Orlesian fashion, I may be at a loss. Magical surprises I can handle."

"You know, I'm surprised you aren't more interested in your own future." Remembering it makes my face flush deeper. My embarrassing fawning over him. But then I remember how he had pulled me close, held my hand briefly… Did that mean he possibly…?

"I know enough. If that future happened then I, and Cassandra, Cullen and the rest, failed to stop this Elder One. Speaking of which…you should ready yourself."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "For?"

"The Elder One," he whispers. "You have now interfered with his plans twice. Once at the Temple of Sacred Ashes…and now again at Redcliffe. A being who aspires to godhood is unlikely to ignore such an affront."

True fear, like I had felt in that horrible future, stabs my chest. My heart sinks. At that, Dorian walks around the corner, his eyebrow raised, smirk spreading across his face.

I feel that flush deepen farther. "T-thanks, Solas. I'll keep that in mind."

I turn on my heel, walking toward where Dorian now stands, leaning up against the cabin just across from Solas. I grab him by the arm and pull him out of sight.

"So," he breathes. "I see you haven't given the—what is he, apostate hobo?—quite the greeting you gave him in the future."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, holding my head high. "That future never happened."

He waggles his eyebrows. "Oh, unrequited love, I see. Has the student fallen for the teacher, perhaps?"

I say nothing.

"How cliché."

"Shut up, Dorian, before I change my mind about you."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell a _soul_."

I just point at him with my finger, not breaking eye contact as I walk around the corner and leave him behind.

Varric's fire is where I find myself, just as I used to before all this mess started. I sit down without waiting for him to invite me.

"The mage rebellion joins the Inquisition," he says without looking away from the burning embers. "I've got to admit, that's a twist I didn't see coming." Varric shudders. "One thing you saw in the future worries me. I mean, it was all bad. But red lyrium in Ferelden? Infecting people and growing out of them? That's _bad_." He sighs, handing me a drink. "Finding more of it really punches a hold in my 'red lyrium at the Temple was a coincidence' theory."

I take a huge swig of the drink, swallowing it hard before speaking. "How long does it take for red lyrium to grow? How fast can it spread?"

"It took years to infect people in Kirkwall, but no one there was actually _ingesting_ the stuff. This 'Elder One' managed to take the worst thing I can think of make it worse. That's an accomplishment."

I sigh. "The Inquisition has the numbers now to track down all this lyrium and destroy it."

"I hope so. I don't want to think about what happens if it starts a plague." His voice trails off. "I've got people trying to find out where the red stuff came from. I think maybe we should make that a priority." He slams down his drink. "But that's enough doom and gloom. You just won a big victory for the Inquisition! What're you going to do to celebrate?"

I laugh. "That's a good point. We should celebrate!" I jump up. "A banquet? Something like a banquet?"

"A word to Josephine, and I bet she could arrange anything. Things should be calm around here for at least the next day. Take a moment to enjoy it." He joins me on his feet, tapping his cup against mine. "If the world's about to end, I'm sure the Seeker will let us know."

I ponder his suggestion for a moment. "You know, you're right. I'm going to talk to Josephine. Let's get something going to celebrate this."

He smirks at me. "I never turn down a good party."

* * *

Josephine pulls through magnificently. She uses her magic with the kitchens and spreads word to all in Haven that the Inquisition is hosting a banquet to celebrate the alliance. The air in the village the next morning is bright with anticipation as the villagers talk of the gathering. Then night finally falls. Differences on opinions seem forgotten and everyone mingles together, talking, eating, dancing.

As the night flies by, the noise increases in volume as more and more mead is passed around. Soon, there are very few people in attendance who aren't staggering in some way or another. I'm even surprised to see Josephine throwing down just as well as half the people here. It makes me laugh, seeing her throw her arms into the air to give a great war cry with a handful of soldiers.

Iron Bull walks up to me right in the middle of the festivities, his face sagging a bit after so much mead. "So…that Tevinter guy sent you into the future?" He grunts uncomfortably, spraying the mead from his mouth.

I shake my head. "Every time I think I understand magic, the rules change."

"And you're a mage, so that's saying something." He shakes his head, obviously trying to gather his thoughts. "Anyway, I hope our new friends here have what it takes to close the Breach. Damn thing gives me a headache just looking at it."

"You're drunk," I laugh. "Go, stop worrying and enjoy the party."

He grunts again, staggering to his feet before stumbling his way over to where Sera dances, making obscene gestures with her hands. I watch his horns disappear over the crowd until they're swallowed by the jumping bodies. I try not to look over at where Solas sits, laughing with some of the new mage recruits. I fail miserably. But, after catching myself staring in his direction for a third time, I find his eyes on me as well.

My cheeks go red and I quickly look away.

As the party goes on, more of my companions start to join me around my campfire. First it's Varric, his cheeks red, steps a bit unsteady. Then it's Blackwall, who doesn't appear to have drank anything at all. To my great surprise, even Solas wanders over, sitting just a few inches away.

"This _is_ your party, after all," he says, inclining his head at me when I throw him a confused look.

Blackwall looks up when he hears Solas's voice and points at him. "Sera and I were just talking about you. We need you to settle a question for us."

Solas sighs. "Sera's involved? So this question will be offensive."

"Yes, probably." He smirks. "Sorry." His eyes glitter with mischief, which makes me snicker and look back and forth between them.

"Oh, this'll be good," Varric whispers.

"You make friends with spirits in the Fade. So…um, are there any that are more than just friends?" A pause. "If you know what I mean."

I cough, spitting out a great wave of my drink into the fire. Maybe Blackwall _is_ drunk.

"Oh, for…really?!" Solas throws his hands up in exasperation, his mouth open.

"Look, it's a natural thing to be curious about!" Blackwall says.

"For a twelve-year-old!"

Blackwall smirks. "It's a simple yes or no question!"

"Nothing about the Fade or spirits is simple, _especially _not that."

Blackwall laughs, deep and booming. "So you do _have_ experience in these matters!"

"I did not say that," Solas says.

Blackwall is still chuckling. "Don't panic. It'll be our little secret."

"Ass," Solas hisses.

"Now who's twelve?" Blackwall almost falls over in his fit of laughter.

All of us are laughing too hard to hear Solas's retort. Through my tears of laughter, I look over at Solas to see his mouth agape in shock, his ears slightly pink. This sets me off even more and I reach out to shove him over.

He doesn't even stop himself. He just falls sideways onto the ground.

Everyone doubles over, spilling their drinks in their laps as tears stream down their faces.

Solas finally sits up after a moment, looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed. It takes a couple heartbeats for his scowl to soften, and soon he too is laughing.

Our uncontrollable laughter draws over the rest of our companions and soon, we all talk, tensions forgotten. Sera and Blackwall trade quips. Iron Bull and Dorian give each other strange looks. Cassandra and Varric seem to be talking civilly for once. Even Vivienne sits just outside our circle, her perfect posture unbroken as she watches us all with a small smile on her large lips.

Solas looks at me and smirks, lightly shoving me back from earlier, though not nearly as hard as I had done to him. I laugh and hand him a drink, which he doesn't refuse.

My heart feels light, watching all of us mingle so easily. This was good, I think to myself. We needed this.

* * *

Just as Varric predicted, by the following morning the calm that had settled over Haven after the alliance seems to have dissipated. The mages seem a bit distraught, fluttering around the village with looks of discontent on their faces. I catch one of them arguing with Cassandra by the lake.

"And what are we supposed to do, exactly?" The flat-ear mage yells at her.

Cassandra shakes her head. "What you always do: complain."

"We've already spoken with Commander Cullen. No one listens! We want better quarters! We want the Templars kept at a distance, and some respect for—"

Cassandra cuts him off. "This is not the Circle. You mages are our allies, not our wards. Act like it."

He glares at her. "How are we supposed to—"

She squares her shoulders to him. "Deal. With. It."

He snarls and walks away.

Cassandra sees me standing there and sighs. "It never ends, evidently."

"You don't need to tell me that," I laugh.

"I just don't know who told them I'm the one to yell at."

My laugh cuts short. "Is it that bad?"

"The mages are here as equals. They need to get used to what that means." She raises her eyebrows at me. "It is your doing, after all. You created this alliance."

I feel that stab of doubt that Sera had given me resurface. "Well, I hope it works. What other choice do we have?"

She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes slowly widening. "Oh. I do sound like I'm blaming you, don't I?" She shakes her head. "I don't disapprove. In fact, you did well. You made a decision when it needed to be made." She gestures toward Haven, at the many bodies that now move in and out of the gates. "And here we are. I wish I could say this was my doing."

"We wouldn't be here at all if you hadn't stood up against the Chantry."

She chuckles. "You're being kind."

"And you're discounting your role in this."

Her eyes darken slightly. "Let's close the Breach. Then we can say how successful I was."

* * *

It doesn't take as long as I expect for the mages to fully settle in, considering what I'd overheard with Cassandra. A week in, the mages seem fairly content and roam freely through the village. A lot of the villagers in the town seem a bit hesitant letting the mages have free rein like this, but the mages take it in stride, holding their heads high and embracing the freedom they truly have.

The advisors finally send me word to make my way to the War Room to talk about the Breach. On my way into the Chantry, Vivienne waves me down when I pass where she usually studies in the corner of the hall. I can tell by the sheen of sweat beading her dark skin that she's been praying, and praying hard. Even her carefully manicured appearance and posture is slightly off.

"If Fiona and her malcontents are joining us as allies, we need to be prepared," she says, not even batting an eye. "Abominations are inevitable. Cullen doesn't have enough Templars to handle incidents. Some of the rank and file need to be trained."

"We can handle the mages. There's no need for Templars."

She opens her eyes wide. "Have any of these men faced an abomination before, my dear? Have you?"

I say nothing.

"The Veil is broken and the raw power of the Fade rushes out like flood waters through a shattered levy. You know as well as I do that mages attract demons where the Veil is thin, and if demons can walk our world with no blood magic to summon them, how safe do you think our allies are? There has never been a greater threat to mages than the Breach. Until it is closed, no one is safe."

I cross my arms across my chest. "If you're seeing demons everywhere, do you believe you're a risk? Do you believe I am?"

"We _are_ a risk, darling. Better to know it and use caution."

I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. This is the kind of thinking that kept my Keeper from making sure I had the knowledge I needed. It's why my wards had been so weak, why I knew practically nothing about the Fade.

"Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous. Anyone who forgets this truth gets burned."

"The Dalish get along fine without Templars or Circle towers."

Just like I was having a hard time keeping my emotions under control, she seems to be having the same issue. Her eyebrows creep closer and closer together, her eyes hardening the more I speak. "As I understand it, the elves limit their risk by refusing to have more than three mages in a clan. Tell me, what becomes of the Dalish youngster who is not appointed First or Second?"

"If the clan can't raise the mage then they're sent to another that's in need of a First or Second."

"And if there are no clans in need of a new apprentice?"

Again, I say nothing.

"For those who value survival, sentimentality is not an option."

I sigh, tired of this argument. Why must all the shemlens insist on fighting with each other? "You're right. But Templars are a poor solution."

"They are men and all men are flawed. That some should fail does not mean that none should try. The fact remains that there is no cure for an abomination, except death. Someone must strike the killing blow. Who shall lower the blade if not the Templars?"

I just shake my head and walk away, not liking the look in her eyes.

"The best of the mages are ready, Herald," Cullen says as I walk into the War Room. "We can proceed whenever you're ready."

Vivienne's conversation is still twisting its way through my mind so I do not understand what he said right away. It takes a moment for the words to connect in my brain, for me to realize what he was implying. As his words sink in, my heart speeds. My stomach churns.

The mages are ready.

My eyes widen as I fully process this. Three long months, and we are finally ready. I can close that damned Breach. We can free Thedas of this threat. Then…

"Tell them to get ready," I say, my voice showing my wave of confidence. "I'm ready to get this over with."


	16. Herald

16 - Herald

It takes a fairly short time to march everyone to the Temple. Sooner than I expected, we're standing below the shattered statue of Andraste, looking up into the vast green light hovering over our heads.

Cassandra stands beside me, Solas on her other side. They both look at me. I cannot hold their gazes, my stomach fluttering too much. Instead, I look down at my hand, at the mark that has sprung to life being so close to the Breach.

Will the mark go away once this is over? Or will it be a permanent reminder of the time I spent among humans, saving refugees and clearing the world of demons?

At the thought, I realize I don't want to lose this mark. In such a short time, it has come to mean so much to so many people. It brought me to these people, these mix of humans and elves, dwarves and Qunari, whom I now consider friends. Without it, I would have never met Varric. Never have seen the softness to Cassandra that she hides behind her armor. And Solas…

I nod at them before stepping toward where the Breach stretches to the heavens.

"Mages!" I hear Solas yell behind me. "Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!"

I take a deep and steadying breath, let it wash through me, cleansing me of my emotions.

The free mages' mana starts pouring over me. It hovers around me, draws into me. So much more than the times Solas had helped me fight against the Templars. So, so much more. My body surges with the power and makes me double over in shock.

The Breach begins to respond to my presence. My mark pulses more fiercely, the rift above my head swirling.

I wait, letting the magic of the mages flow into me until I can no longer take it.

I throw my hand up, reaching for the power hovering above me. Immediately, I feel that pull, that pain spreading through my chest. My entire body vibrates with it.

I feel, more than hear, the scream wrenched from my lungs.

The push and pull continues for what feels ages, but for what can only be seconds. Then I feel the give, the rush that tells me I'm successful.

The explosion sends a surge of power outwards that knocks everyone down. My body flies through the air, hitting the ground in a great heap that makes me cry out in pain.

My ears ring. My head throbs. I moan as I slowly push myself upright, then up to my knees. I sit there for a moment, staring down at my hand, letting my heart beat furiously in my chest. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up.

Cassandra stands over me. I dare a glance up at the sky.

The Breach is gone.

Relief. Sweet, utter and complete relief. It floods me, my chest and shoulders lighter than they've been in months. I don't even bother to hold back the smile bursting to my lips.

"You did it," Cassandra says, her voice weak with joy.

I stand, turn toward the people all watching behind me.

In one voice, in one beautiful chorus, their cheers ring out.

* * *

The celebration back in Haven puts the banquet from last week to shame. People of all shapes and sizes, mages and ex-Templars, elves and humans, dance and sing as they frolic around the paths of the village. Campfires litter the ground, the bodies surrounding them so thick it's almost impossible to walk through.

I cannot bring myself to join them. I merely watch, taking this victory in solitude to let the emotions pouring through my body flood my mind. It makes me understand why Solas spent so much of his time alone. This feeling… It wouldn't be the same.

Joy. Relief. Tainted by hints of disappointment. With this done, with my mission accomplished…

"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm."

I turn toward Cassandra. I hadn't even heard her come up behind me.

"The Breach is sealed." She joins me in overlooking the celebrations below. "We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."

I look at her then. "You know how many were involved. Luck put me at the center."

She smiles, her face light for the first time. "A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less. But you're right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."

I don't even have time to process what she's implying. At that moment, a bell rings strong and loud throughout Haven. I jump, watch the people down below shift from joyful to frightened. Soldiers go still with alarm before bolting toward the front gates.

Confusion overtakes all the other emotions I'd been savoring. Fear. "What's going on?" I yell.

Cullen runs toward us. "Forces approaching! To arms!"

My heart stills, my mouth going dry. Not now. _Why_ now?

"What the…?" Cassandra looks as surprised as I feel. "We must get to the gates!"

I can see them now, flames floating down the dark mountains around us carried by unseen men. I turn back toward where Cassandra had been standing to find her gone. I clench my fists, reach for my staff. My eyes dart around frantically, my grasp on my staff slippery and unsure. Where are the others?

"Perhaps assaulting the sky drew some attention."

I sigh in relief as Blackwall walks up to me. He places a hand on my shoulder and I nod at him. "Possibly. Do you know where the others are?"

"Dorian went to help the soldiers, I think. Not sure about Bull."

"Solas? Sera?"

"Here," Sera says.

Both of them come up behind me.

"This does not bode well, lethallan," Solas says.

"We should head to the gates," Blackwall says. "See just who is invading."

"Agreed," I say, leading them forward.

The panic of the villagers is contagious. I can feel it spreading through my limbs, making my steps more and more frantic as I cut across the paths.

We find Cullen and Cassandra standing just inside the gates.

"One watch guard reporting," Cullen says, answering the question in my eyes. "It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

Josephine pushes her way through the soldiers. "Under what banner?"

"None," Cullen answers simply.

"None?"

I watch the light filtering through the slats of the gate. It pulses, pounding. It almost sounds like someone is knocking.

Someone _is_ knocking. "I can't come in unless you open!"

The voice that speaks sounds panicked, young. I gasp, running forward, motioning for the guard to open the gate.

A Templar stands just outside. But, as the gate swings open, he gags and falls to the ground. A young man stands where he stood. He wears a large swooping hat that obscures most of his face.

Cullen and I run toward him.

"I'm Cole," the boy says in a rush. He keeps his face tilted down so I can only see his chin. His skin looks deathly pale. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know."

"What is this?" I say. "What's going on?"

The boy called Cole reaches out for me, drawing close. His eyes are just as pale of a blue, his hair the color of straw, lank and dangling around his face. "The Templars come to kill you."

The word settles unpleasantly in my stomach. I'm instantly back in the Hinterlands, feeling the Templars drain my magic until I'm helpless.

"Templars?" Cullen yells, pulling me back to the present.

Cole jumps away from him, holding his hands out defensively.

"Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

Cole shakes his head. "The Red Templars went to the Elder One." He looks at me, stepping forward so his face is close to mine. I resist the urge to spring backwards. "You know him? He knows you. You took his mages." He steps back, light on his feet, and points behind him to the other side of the lake. "There."

Two men stand at the top of the frozen waterfall. One looks to be nothing more than a Templar, but the other…

"I know that man…" Cullen whispers. "But this Elder One…"

His skin is pulled tight over chunks of red lyrium, sticking out of his skin like spikes. His face is scarred, the dips and pitches of his skin shining red with power. It looks as if whatever armor he had once worn now is one with his body, his shoulders sticking out, breastplate protruding from his chest. Half of a hood still covers part of his face.

Cole is shaking his head. "He's very angry that you took his mages."

The Elder One? Here? I remember too clearly the fear on my friends faces in the dark future as the Elder One had approached. Remember all too well the knowledge darkening their eyes as they stepped forward to sacrifice themselves.

"Cullen!" I yell, my voice hitching in panic. "Give me a plan! Anything!"

"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." He points toward where flocks of Templars pour down the mountain. "Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!" He pulls his sword from his sheath, turning toward the soldiers and mages now gathered outside the gates. "Mages! You—you have to sanction to engage them! That is Samson." He gestures to the Templar standing next to the Elder One. "He will not make it easy!"

This is it, I can't help but think. This is what they've been training so hard for. Day and night. I can hear it in the determination in Cullen's voice.

"Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"

I look in time to see Blackwall, Sera, and Solas join me along with the soldiers of the Inquisition, who charge toward the nearest trebuchet. I don't hesitate. I push my feet forward, disappearing into the crowd.

I see now why Cole referred to the Templars as Red Templars. The men who charge forward glow from within, just as my friends had in the dark future. Their eyes gleam with madness, their bodies pulsing with red tendrils.

My mana pours from me, joining with Solas's to push the Templars back. Blackwall charges, Sera right behind him with her bow drawn. I focus on my staff, the lightning darting out from my body toward the charging men. I dance, swinging my staff, willing my mana not to be overcome like it had been in the Hinterlands. I can feel my blood pounding in my veins, sweat dripping down my nose to my mouth. When I hear Sera scream I don't even think, just turn and push with my mind, throwing the Red Templar hovering over her back through the air.

"Keep them back!" I hear a soldier yell. "We're ready to fire!"

A few of the Templars who charge us are horribly deformed, their bodies hunched forward, red lyrium protruding from their shoulders like great glowing spikes. They use no weapons, no shields. They use the lyrium flowing through their veins like I use my mana, power pulsing from them in great waves.

The trebuchet fires, sending a massive object up and over the lake. It collides with the mountain in the distance. The snow rolls down like a great blanket, taking out a small chunk of the approaching Templars.

"They felt that!" the solider manning the trebuchet yells. "We'll reload—you get to the other trebuchet! It isn't firing!"

I'm already running that direction before she finishes her sentence.

Templars have already started to surround the other trebuchet by time we get there. I scream, drawing their attention away from the soldiers fighting for their lives.

We fight until our hands bleed. The soldiers who had once held the trebuchet no longer move, their bodies scattered around the base. I nod at my companions and run to the lever.

I turn the large wheel, trying my best to ignore the sounds of battle behind me. Blackwall's yells. Sera's laughter. Solas's perpetual silence. I don't stop, not even when I feel Solas's ward wrap around me, keeping me safe from whoever approaches behind me. I look over my shoulder, watch as Blackwall pulls the great beast back, away from me.

Finally, the trebuchet is ready. I jump, pull the lever next to me.

The missile flies across the valley, colliding with the mountain as the other had. My heart races as I watch the snow pile down the mountain, taking out the Templars not yet off the mountain. The lights dancing their way down slowly flicker out as they're overcome.

I breathe a sigh of relief as some of our reinforcements join us, taking out the last of the Templars and cheering in victory. No more torches flicker against the mountainside. I cheer along with the soldiers, glad that we seem to have stopped the oncoming horde of Templars.

A great roar rends through the sky. It rattles in my chest, makes the blood in my veins boil. A dark shadow looms toward us from high in the air.

I jump away from the trebuchet just as a great ball of fire crashes into it, shattering the structure into pieces. I look up, watch as a great winged creature flies overhead, fire spewing from its mouth.

"Is that a bloody dragon?!" Sera screams.

No. It can't be.

"To the gates!" I yell, watching the dragon fly over the walls and into Haven. How quickly my chest has gone from light and victorious to filling with dread. I know, deep in my heart, that we're done. Haven is gone. I ignore the pang in my stomach and push through the gates after Cullen.

We can't fight against a dragon.

* * *

Chancellor Roderick is the one to guide everyone into the Chantry. His face is pale, his side covered in blood. Cole stands behind him.

"Move!" the Chancellor wheezes. "Keep going! The Chantry is your shelter!"

Cole catches the Chancellor as he collapses. Cole helps him to his feet, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. Cole then looks at me. "He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He's going to die."

The Chancellor laughs feebly. "What a charming boy."

"Herald!" Cullen yells, running toward me. "Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

I say nothing. I already know what he's trying to say.

Cole looks up at us from where he kneels next to the Chancellor. "I've seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

An Archdemon? Does that mean this is the beginning of another Blight?

My knees shake.

"I don't care what it looks like," Cullen says, dismissing him. "It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!"

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald."

How can Cole know that? Had he worked with this Elder One before coming to us? Either way, I take this knowledge and run with it. "If it will save these people, he can have me."

My job with the Breach is done. If sacrificing myself for these people means giving them time to escape, then I won't hesitate. I care for them all too deeply. Solas shakes his head at me, his eyes wide. Oh, how far I've come, I realize. Never would I have pictured myself willing to sacrifice my life for a bunch of shemlen. Not so clearly and blatantly.

"It won't!" Cole yells. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters. But he'll crush them, kill them anyway." He hesitates. "I don't like him."

Cullen looks at him with eyes wide. "You don't like…" He throws his arms up. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

My heart is sinking as the realization of our situation hits me. No matter what… "We're overrun. To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

"We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."

I twist my hands in front of me, trying hard to hear through the pounding in my ears. I'm about to say something when I notice Cole exchanging a look with the Chancellor.

"Yes, that," Cole whispers. He then looks at me. "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."

Just _who_ _is_ this kid?

"There…is a path," the Chancellor starts, breathing heavily. "You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have." He heaves, forcing himself to stand. "The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could…tell you."

"What do you mean, Roderick?" I ask.

"It was a whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start—it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… I don't know, Herald."

A rush of…something floods my body. Flattery? He's never once called me Herald before.

"If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. _You_ could be more."

Wow. That's… "If that thing is here for me, I'll make him fight for it," I say, my voice much stronger than I expect.

Cullen looks shocked. "And when the mountain falls? What about you?"

I don't answer. I look at all my friends, staring at me with mouths open. Varric looks like he's thinking about slapping me. Cassandra lost for words. Vivienne genuinely surprised and thoughtful. Sera like she's going to cry. Iron Bull nor Blackwall are looking at me. And Solas…the pain in his eyes is not something I ever wanted to see. Not so deep into someone's soul. It makes me look quickly away.

"Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…" Cullen whispers.

I still don't answer, swallowing the lump in my throat instead.

Cullen clears his throat, turning toward the people waiting. "Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!"

Cole helps the Chancellor again, wrapping his arm over his shoulder.

"Herald," the Chancellor gasps, "If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you."

My body is too numb. I can't feel my legs. "Thank you, Chancellor. May your Maker keep you safe."

Cullen guides the soldiers past me toward the doors.

"They'll load the trebuchets," he says. "Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line. If we are to have a chance—if _you_ are to have a chance—let that thing hear you."

I nod. Blackwall, Sera, and Solas all step forward with me, but I hold out my hand.

"I cannot ask for your sacrifice," I say.

"But, we can't just—"

"Please, Blackwall," I whisper. "We don't have time. Go with the others. Keep them safe."

He looks very much like he wants to come no matter what. But the look on my face, the heat of my gaze, makes him nod before he turns, running after Cullen.

"Thank you, Sera," I say.

She turns, wiping her eyes.

"Solas, I—"

He steps forward, places a hand on my shoulder. Just like in the dark future, he leans down, touching his forehead to mine for a split second.

"I pray you survive," he whispers.

I can't say another word. He sets his shoulders back, his eyes filling with that dark sadness again, and then he's gone.

* * *

**I realize that there's a whole other battle scene right at the end where you (obviously) have your party with you. But this never made sense to me. How did they get away at the end? So I fixed that by making that...well, not happen lol**


	17. The Dawn Will Come

17 - The Dawn Will Come

I meet little opposition on the way. The soldiers who had been sent ahead walk in front of me, guarding me as we run. We get to the only standing trebuchet and the soldiers instantly start loading it.

A few Templars who had survived the avalanche appear. I meet them, using all my strength, pushing them back with my mind and lightning. A few of the soldiers join me, taking down the ones who slip past.

The trebuchet clicks into place. The sound settles deep into my being.

"Go!" I yell at the soldiers. "You might be able to catch up to the rest! I'll set this off."

They don't try to argue with me. They salute, bowing before running back toward the Chantry.

I run up to the trebuchet, close my eyes for a moment to breathe. I let the fear wash over me for just a heartbeat. Let it set my blood aflame. Then I push it back, letting it settle deep in my mind.

I will not die in fear.

A great roar from the dragon makes me look up. It's coming toward me, head angled down in my direction.

My heart stops. "Shit."

The flame it shoots explodes with tendrils of red power. I recognize the heat, the surge of magic: red lyrium. I feel my body fly through the air before I collide with the ground.

Everything swims in front of me. My body screams in pain. I moan, reach up to touch the spot on my head that bleeds freely. After a moment I sit up, looking toward the flames that crackle with the power of red lyrium.

A figure is looming toward me, his face downturned in a permanent scowl.

The ground rumbles. I barely manage to keep my footing as the great dragon lands beside me, its rotted skin pulled back from its razor sharp teeth. It growls at me, its putrid breath waving across my skin. It steps toward me, arching its neck until it stretches its head toward the sky, letting out a piercing scream that makes me cover my ears involuntarily.

Pure panic floods me. My mind goes blank as I back away from it, screaming.

"Enough!" the Elder One demands.

His voice is _the_ voice. The one we'd heard at the Temple. It makes my skin crawl.

"Pretender," he growls. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

It takes everything I have to gather my strength, all my courage. "Whatever you are, I am not afraid!"

"Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies."

I ignore that pang that tells me he's right. I _am_ afraid. I don't want to die.

He speaks slowly, deliberately. "Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The _will_ that is Corypheus!" He lifts one of his hands. His fingers are long, sharp claws. They make me take a step back. "You will kneel."

"You'll…you'll get nothing out of me!" I yell, my voice breaking.

He doesn't shake his head. Doesn't sigh. He merely takes a step forward. "You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not." He lifts one of his hands. In his grasp is a large orb, carved with endless spirals. It begins to pulse, spewing red energy. "I am here for the _Anchor_. The process of removing it begins now."

He thrusts his other hand out toward me.

Pain. Unbearable pain. I gasp, look down at my now glowing hand. I grab my wrist, clenching my jaw as the pain spreads up my arm. My hand vibrates out of my control.

"It is your fault, 'Herald.' You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose."

Pain shoots though my body again as he twists his hand in the air, pulling the power emanating from my hand. It's so much worse than the pain that accompanies closing the rifts, but so much the same. As if the process is reversed and is pulling the energy from me.

"I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at the rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."

It bursts through me again. I cannot stop my scream of pain and fall to my knees.

"And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!"

I clench my jaw, force myself to look up. "What is this thing meant to do?" My body convulses, my head falling as more pain bores through me.

"It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it."

I can't lift my head for the pain, so I don't see him approach. He grabs me by my arm, pulling me upright as if I'm nothing more than a toy. He holds me high above him and I'm forced to look straight into his soulless eyes.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire _in person_. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more." He pulls me closer to him, so we're almost nose to nose. "I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world." He snarls. "Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and _it was empty_!"

All of this info rushes through me. He entered the Fade _physically_? One thousand _years_ ago?

Who is this…this _thing_?

Suddenly, he thrusts his arm backwards. I gasp in surprise as he tosses me toward the trebuchet. I slam into it, feel the air leave my lungs in one great rush of wind as I curl inward in pain. I cough into my hand, feel my body heave.

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling."

I look up through the haze of my eyes, see him and his dragon walking toward me. I shake my head, see a sword abandoned by one of the soldiers lying next to me. I reach for it, force myself to my feet.

"So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and _god_—it requires."

I look up, past where the Elder One stands. I see a flame shoot through the sky, far off in the distance. A signal.

Relief floods through me like the rush of a river. They're safe. They've made it.

"And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You _must_ die."

My fear is gone, my panic subdued at seeing the signal that my friends are safe. I look around me, searching for the lever that will bring Haven down.

And there it is, right next to me. Oh, how perfect he should throw me here.

I turn and face him, holding the sword in front of me. "You expect me to fight, but that's not why I kept you talking. Enjoy your victory. Here's your prize!"

I spin, kicking the lever with all my strength.

Even Corypheus and his dragon watch the boulder sail overhead, toward the mountain in the distance. Snow begins to wave down the hills, toppling trees, burying everything. The ground rumbles under my feet. I quickly turn while the Elder One is distracted, run toward Haven. I hear the dragon give a great roar behind me.

The snow is coming. I can hear it, _feel_ it, seconds away from taking me away with it.

A dark, gaping hole looms in front of me, no doubt caused by the dragon and its strange fire. I dive.

As my body floats downward, the avalanche whisks past my feet.

* * *

Just like what feels ages ago, pain wakes me. I gasp, reaching for my side that burns with agony. I push myself up onto my elbows. Then to my feet. I stagger, taking more sharp breaths as heat spreads through my body.

It takes a moment for the pain to subside enough for me to see. I grab my head, let my eyes wander around the room.

I'm in…a tunnel? It looks old. Ice hangs from the ceiling, snow dusts the ground.

Is this the path the others took?

I gasp in pain again, doubling over.

Slowly, I stumble forward, holding my side, trying to keep it from moving with my steps.

I walk for what feels ages, feel the tunnel start to curve. I have to stop once or twice to bend over and breathe, giving my side a break from the searing torment.

Finally, I see a light up ahead. The relief at seeing it almost overtakes me and I barely catch myself before I fall forward.

Just a few more steps. Just a few more.

Movement up ahead makes me look up. My blood freezes.

Demons. They lunge for me.

I'm in no condition to fight. I can barely _move_, let alone cast.

I do it by instinct. I lift my marked hand into the air as if pulling closed a rift. My mark responds and I gasp as the sky opens, sucking up the demons charging toward me. And then they're gone, the rift I'd opened blinking out of existence.

I fall to my knees, looking down at my mark—the Anchor—in wonder. So, not only can this thing close rifts…it can open them, too?

I push my body up, forcing myself to walk toward the light just out of reach.

Cold. Cold so intense I feel my eyelashes freeze almost instantly. I raise my hand, covering my eyes against the raging snowstorm. My body shivers, convulsing wildly.

I see fire in the distance. I press toward it, longing for the warmth of the flames. But, as I near, the fire encasing the wagon dies.

"No," I whisper, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.

Keep going. This _has_ to be the path they took.

Wolves start howling not much later. I rub my hands together, breathing into them for warmth. I try to use my magic, holding a small spark in my hands to warm what I can. It flickers out within seconds.

The howls follow me as I move, pushing through the building snow. Soon, I can barely lift my legs out of the snow. Each step takes great effort.

I see a shadow up ahead. An old campfire? I push my way toward it.

It is. The pot still lay on the ground next to where the embers once burned. But it's cold, long-since abandoned. But, they were here. I feel it. A spark of hope lights my chest.

Trees start to thicken around me. It makes me nervous. Too much cover for the wolves to hide. But I keep going, trying to hold my head high so I can see through the swirling blizzard.

I stumble through the snow for what feels to be a couple of hours. I force myself to keep casting small fires in my grasp. It's the only thing that keeps me going, keeps my body warm enough to survive.

The roaring wind finally starts to calm. Then, all of a sudden, it's as if I've stepped out of the storm, the world around me clear.

"Where am I?" I ask myself.

I see signs of another old campfire. I push my way through the thick snow toward it. My heart leaps when I reach it, see the curling embers still smoldering in its depths.

They're close.

I keep pushing, between two massive cliffs on either side. The path starts to curve to the right, sloping downward.

Then I see it: fires in the distance. Tents scattered among the trees. And a voice.

"There! It's her!"

I fall to my knees at the sound of Cullen's voice, sobbing in relief as he comes into view, followed by Cassandra and a few other people.

"Thank the Maker!" Cassandra exclaims.

Thank the Maker, indeed.

I don't wait for them to reach me. I let my body fall into the snow, darkness washing over me.

* * *

The bed I lay in is uncomfortable, exposed to the cold winter air. The advisors' voices drift over me, pulling me from the sleep I had so willingly let take me.

"And who put you in charge?" Cullen yells. "We need a consensus, or we have nothing!"

"Please, we must use reason!" Josephine says angrily. "Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we're hobbled!"

"That can't come from nowhere!" Cullen says over her.

"She didn't say it could!" Leliana yells.

"Enough!" Cassandra demands. "This is getting us nowhere!"

Movement just next to me makes me turn my attention from them.

"Shh," Mother Giselle whispers. "You need rest."

I sigh. I'd forgotten she had joined the Inquisition, which is silly since I passed her every time I made my way to the War Room. "They've been at it for hours."

"They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame." She sighs, her eyes darkening with sadness. "Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus."

I barely remember mumbling to them as they carried me from the mountain, telling them what had happened. What was said. They had seen some of what happened, according to Cullen. They'd watched from a distance as they moved up the mountain and to safety. Our voices had drifted to them until they were too far away to hear.

I push myself up, ignoring her protests. Now that the shock of everything has worn off, my entire body is riddled with pain. My head throbs. "Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?"

"We are not sure where _we_ are. Which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him." She shrugs. "That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack." She shakes her head. "I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us."

I lay back down, sighing at the brief relief. "The only thing yelling gets us is a headache. Another headache." I wince against the pain that shoots across my temple.

"They know. But our situation—your situation—is complicated. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand…and fall. And now we have seen her _return_."

My heart starts racing. I push myself upright again, ignoring the twinge of my body, and throw my legs over the side of the bed.

"The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained."

I don't look at her. I stare meekly at my feet, listening to her words.

"That is hard to accept, no? What 'we' have been called to endure? What 'we,' perhaps, must come to believe?"

"I…I escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but I didn't die."

"Of course," she says, smiling, "and the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered." Her eyes hold mine. "Can we truly know the heavens are _not_ with us?"

I shake my head at her, partly to clear my thoughts. "You saw Corypheus. What do you think of his claims of assaulting the heavens?"

She ponders for a moment, finally crossing her hands in her lap. "Scripture says Magisters, Tevinter servants of the false Old Gods, entered the Fade to reach the Golden City, seat of the Maker. For their crime, they were cast out as darkspawn. Their hubris is why we suffer Blight, and why the Maker turned from us. If such is the claim of this Corypheus, he is a monster beyond imagining. All mankind continues to suffer for that sin. If even a shred of that is true, all the more reason Andraste would choose someone to rise against him."

"Corypheus said he found only corruption and emptiness. Nothing golden."

"If he entered that place, it has changed him without and within. The living are not meant to make that journey. Perhaps," she pauses, her eyes thoughtful, "these are lies he _must_ tell himself, rather than accept that he earned the scorn of the Maker." She looks away from me, her mouth turned downward. "I know I could not bear such."

"I…"

I breathe out. I think about everything that has happened to me since I stepped out of the Fade. Everything I've done. Everything the Inquisition has done. Stumbling upon Corypheus's plans.

"Perhaps, I was meant for this," I breathe. "But that didn't help at Haven. I want to believe _someone_ is with me, but doubt is everywhere."

I push myself to my feet then, surprised at how my body doesn't protest, and walk away from her. I place my hands on my hips, watch Leliana and Josephine sit, shoulders hunched and heads down, next to the fire. Cullen stands off to the side, shaking his head. Cassandra stares at the map of Thedas, her eyes hard as her fingers trace over the parchment, no doubt trying to find out where we are.

Mother Giselle's voice suddenly calls out in song and I turn toward her. Her voice rings, carries clear and crisp in the night air.

"Shadows fall

And hope has fled.

Steel your heart

The dawn will come.

The night is long

And the path is dark

Look to the sky

For one day soon

The dawn will come."

At first, it is just her, singing into the darkness as she walks forward to stand next to me. But then Leliana joins in. Soldiers start pouring out of tents, their voices rising to the sky. Cullen closes his eyes. Soon, almost everyone has stepped forward and sings. Goose-pimples rise on my skin as their voices drift over me.

"The shepard's lost

And his home is far

Keep to the stars

The dawn will come.

The night is long

And the path is dark

Look to the sky

For one day soon

The dawn will come."

I watch, my heart beating fast, as the people turn to me. Slowly they kneel, bowing their heads while their voices ring out. I take a step back, the breath coming from my lungs quick and uneven.

"Bare your blade

And raise it high

Stand your ground

The dawn will come."

My mouth goes dry as I look over at where Cole kneels above Chancellor Roderick. Cole closes the Chancellor's eyes, backing away from his still body.

"The night is long

And the path is dark

Look to the sky

For one day soon

The dawn will come."

My chest moves quickly, up and down, my mouth dry. I look straight ahead, to the edge of where the tents sit. Solas is watching, his head cocked off to one side, eyes narrowed in amazement. I cannot hold his gaze and look away, holding my breath.

Everyone stands, their voices rising in excitement as they walk back toward their tents. I don't move, my hands shaking at my sides.

"Faith is made stronger by facing doubt," Mother Giselle says. "Untested, it is nothing."

* * *

**This is by far one of my favorite scenes in the entire game. If there's any scene I recommend finding on YT and watching, it's definitely this one.**


	18. Inquisitor

**So, quick confession. My husband and I didn't get the DLCs for Inquisition right after they came out. Truthfully, we didn't even know they existed until we started replaying it here a couple months ago. Naturally, as soon as we had the extra cash (yay taxes!) I went in and bought all of them when they were on sale. Last night, I played The Descent for the first time and let me just say...wow! I've always loved the Deep Roads based missions and this was no exception by far! Before I started it, I'd already decided to play a dwarf after I was through with Ariella, and this only got me even more excited to start!**

**Also yes, this means I have _never_ played Trespasser. It was the DLC I was begging for after beating the game the first time...but I've watched ALL the videos. Damn, my heart is going to die, poor thing, when I actually play it...**

* * *

18 - Inquisitor

"A word?"

I jump, barely catching Solas as he walks around the edge of a tent. My heart, still pounding from before, leaps again as he stops and gestures for me to follow.

He doesn't speak as we move away from camp, into the darkness. It isn't until he comes to the top of a small hill that he stops, waving his hand over a torch staked into the ground. Blue fire springs to life.

I hesitate for a moment before pushing myself the rest of the way up the hill.

"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting," he says, clasping his hands behind his back.

I stop on the other side of the torch, watching him.

"Her faith is hard-won, lethallan, worthy of pride…save one detail."

I will myself to step closer to him so we stand side-by-side, ignoring how it makes my skin tingle. Should I reach out? Touch him? Would he react as he had in that horrible future?

"The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours."

This knowledge completely pushes all those thoughts from my mind.

"Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave." He looks at me, his eyes narrowed. "We must find out how he survived…and we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people."

Corypheus used _our _magic to open the Breach? I feel my head throb. I still the shaking of my hands. "All right, what is it, and how do you know about it?"

He shifts on his feet. "Such things were Foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade. Echoes of a dead empire." He inclines his head at me, pursing his lips. "But however Corypheus came to it, the orb _is_ elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."

I shrug, grasping at what little spark of hope flickers in my chest. "Didn't you see? The people trust me implicitly."

He smirks and I barely control the pattering of my heart in response. "Faith tends to make martyrs of its champions. Whatever the case, that trust cannot grow in the wilderness. You will need every advantage." He turns, gesturing toward a gap between two mountains in front of us. "By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed _you_. Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build…grow…"

"What, exactly?" I ask, unable to contain myself.

"You'll see."

I stare off in the distance, past the flames, my jaw clenched. I can feel the excitement building in my veins, making my heart pound. What kind of place has Solas seen in his dreams? Somewhere big enough to let the Inquisition recover from the loss of Haven?

He places his hand on my back, pulling me from my thoughts, placing new ones in their stead. It's harder than it should be to shake them away.

"I am glad you survived."

"Me, too."

He hesitates before setting his shoulders back. "You should rest, lethallan. We have a long journey ahead of us."

I nod, letting his hand on my back guide me back toward camp.

The next morning, I do as Solas had said. The people around me pack their things and I take the lead, cutting through the snow leading north. They form one long line behind me, bodies moving slowly, the injured carried on horseback.

At times I stand off to the side, watching as people pass, nod in encouragement at the ones whose heads hang. But, mostly, I walk in the very front, scaling the large cliffs to peer over valleys, looking for whatever place I'm supposed to find.

At night, the tents are unpacked, fires are lit. We all rest, sleeping deep in order to repeat it again in the morning.

On the second day, Solas joins me at the front of the herd. He uses his staff to help scale the higher of the inclines, reaching back to take my hand and pull me up. The contact makes my heart race.

We talk, speculate on Corypheus and his origins.

"He entered the Fade _physically_," Solas muses at one point. "What a fascinating accomplishment."

"Do you wish you could travel the Fade in person?"

He does not answer for a long time. He finally looks at me, reaching out to steady me as I stumble in the deep snow. "Yes. It would be extraordinary."

I sigh. "Visiting the Fade at all would be amazing."

"You have not traveled the Fade?"

"No. My Keeper never taught me how. It's not something I feel should be done without instruction."

"Not even in dreams?"

I shrug. "Not that I remember. I rarely ever dream."

He doesn't hesitate. "Then I shall guide you."

I _do_ stumble then. He laughs and pulls me upright.

"You…you would do that?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

There's conflict in his gaze. "I enjoy watching you grow in your abilities. You have become quite strong in the short time you've led this Inquisition."

"Oh," I breathe, my heart sinking slightly. I had been hoping for…a different answer.

"And, well…" he hesitates. "I _do_ enjoy spending time with you. I would not mind more of it."

What a beautiful day it is, I think to myself.

* * *

"We draw near."

I look at Solas, my heart hammering. I nod, push myself up the hill just in front of us. He stays close, just a step behind me. As I reach the top I turn back and grab his hand, pulling him up with me. Then I turn.

A gigantic castle floats on the mountain just on the other side of the valley. I suppress a gasp as I move forward, away from him and toward the looming structure.

It's absolutely magnificent.

"Skyhold," he says, following me.

"How—" I breathe, turning toward him. "How did you know…?"

"When one walks in the Fade, any fortress that has seen enough battle shines as a beacon for spirits drawn to death and struggle, even after centuries of disuse."

"How do you know its name?"

"I…cannot say for myself. The whispers of old memories carry a thousand such names upon their breath, and it is possible that this name belonged to some other keep in some other land. When the words reached my dreaming mind, Skyhold was not simply a fortress near the sky, nor was it some simplistic illusion to holding up the sky. Skyhold—Tarasyl'an te'las—was 'the place where the sky was held back.'"

I do not stop the smile spreading across my face. "Let's go tell the others, shall we?"

* * *

We spend the next two weeks settling into our new home. The castle isn't quite big enough to house all the people of Haven, so tents are set up along the frozen river in the valley below.

My friends all spread out through the castle, claiming their quarters rather quickly. Sera takes a room in what, almost overnight, becomes the new tavern. Iron Bull takes possession of a small tower next to the tavern. Blackwall sets up a bedroll in the barn, in the hayloft. I try to persuade him to find a room in the castle but he insists he likes the smell of the horses and that it makes him feel more at home.

One of the larger of the rotundas, just off of the great hall, holds three spacious rooms. At the top is the rookery, where Leliana chooses to spend most of her time, sending messages throughout Thedas about the Inquisition. Below that is the library, where I'm most likely to find Dorian pouring over ancient texts or passed out in a rather large and fluffy chair. I don't really know where he sleeps, but I guess it's in a room above the gardens, along with Varric and Vivienne. The lowest floor of the tower is where Solas sets his space up, with little furniture spare the large desk situated in the very center of the room. It's piled with books and notes. He almost constantly sits there, studying so intently he doesn't even acknowledge me passing through on the way to the library. I know there are easier paths there, but I can't help myself but to pass on my way, hoping to catch his gaze.

Cassandra takes a bed next to the blacksmith's forge. Cullen and Josephine both claim two of the larger rooms for their offices, choosing to set up their beds there as well.

I try to insist that I wish for nothing more than to pitch a tent out in the courtyard, along with the soldiers, but the advisors do not listen. They compensate by giving me the largest of the rooms in the castle, which has a balcony overlooking a large expanse of the Frostbacks. I spend most of my mornings out there, watching birds fly in and out of the rookery with a cloak wrapped around my shoulders.

Almost everyday, I watch people come to Skyhold carrying large packs on their backs. Some are obviously soldiers, coming to join the Inquisition's army. Some look to be nothing more than common folk, looking for safety among the Inquisition's numbers.

I spend most of my spare time exploring the castle, learning all the twists and turns, taking in the neglect of the stone walls and windows. The land under the castle, and the stones in the walls, all sing to me. They pulse with deep and ancient magics that I cannot even begin to understand. Their song captivates me.

It's obvious that Skyhold has been taken by people from all races. I see traces of the elves in the foundations of the building. The structure itself is obviously Ferelden. Dwarven statues in the undercroft show that they, too, occupied this space at some point. I desperately wish to learn more about this place, see the memories that it holds. But I give Solas his space, trying not to seem too desperate for his attention.

One of those mornings, I come walking out of a corridor into the courtyard after exploring some of the servants' quarters. As always, people are pouring through the gates into the courtyard, carrying heavy boxes. The four advisors stand in the middle, talking amongst themselves. When I close the door behind me, all four of them turn. Cassandra waves at me, telling me to come over. I sigh and do so only slightly reluctantly. The other three disappear as I get close, which makes my stomach drop. Had they been talking about me?

"They arrive daily from every settlement in the region," Cassandra says, gesturing to the people setting up tents around the courtyard. "Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage. If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One."

I follow her as she starts climbing the steps toward the upper courtyard.

"We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

I hold up my hand, showing her my mark. "He came for this, and now it's useless to him, so he wants me dead. That's it."

We reach the upper courtyard but Cassandra continues to climb the steps leading farther up, toward the front gates of the castle.

"The Anchor has power," she says, "but it's not why you're still standing here. Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature's rival because of what _you_ did. And we know it. All of us."

As we crest one of the landings, I see Leliana standing there. How had she gotten here before us? She holds a brilliant sword in her arms, outstretched toward me.

Cassandra turns to me. "The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has _already _been leading it."

It takes a moment. I take a sharp inhale of breath through my teeth as her words hit me. I clench my fists, turning to look down at the courtyard below.

The people have all gathered, their eyes turned upward toward where we stand. Many of them smile, inclining their heads at me. I watch both Cullen and Josephine join them.

My eyes widen, my heart stilling in my chest.

"You," Cassandra says.

I look back at her, my mouth slightly agape. "You're offering this to an elf? Are you quite sure you know what you're doing?"

She smiles at me, her eyes bright. "I would be terrified handing this power to anyone, but I believe it is the only way." She nods toward the crowd. "They'll follow you. To them, being an elf shows how far you've risen, how it must have been by Andraste's hand."

I watch as she turns toward Leliana. Feel the sweat bead on my forehead.

"What it means to you, how you lead us: that is for you alone to determine," Cassandra says.

Leliana is holding out the sword to me. My heart pounds as I look down at it. It's a beautiful bronze. The neck and head of a dragon wraps around the hilt, the blade bursting from it's mouth like a great jet of flame.

I stare down at it. They're letting me choose. Letting me have the option of turning this down. Cassandra, or Leliana, would be a better leader, I think to myself. Why ask me?

But then Cassandra's words wash over me like a flood. I _have_ been leading them already. I decided the fate of the mages. I led them from Haven. I brought them here, with Solas's guidance.

My heart hammers furiously against my ribs as I reach out. I grab the hilt of the sword, hold it for a split moment, debating, before lifting it from Leliana's grasp. I take a deep breath, let the words pour from my mouth as if I've known for a long time what I was going to say.

"I will lead us against Corypheus, and I will be an ambassador. I'm an elf standing for Thedas. The Inquisition is for all."

Cassandra steps toward me. "Wherever you lead us." She walks past me, looks down toward where Josephine and Cullen stand. "Have our people been told?"

The smile on Josephine's face is wide, triumphant. "They have. And soon the world."

Cassandra turns to Cullen. "Commander, will they follow?"

I watch in amazement as he turns toward the soldiers standing behind him. "Inquisition! Will you follow?"

My heart soars with their cheers, with their fists pumping into the air.

Cullen takes out his sword, lifting it to the sky. "Will you fight? Will we triumph?"

My body surges with adrenaline. My breaths come quick. I look at Cassandra over my shoulder, see the smile on her face.

Cullen turns to face me along with his men. "Your leader! Your Herald! Your _Inquisitor_!"

All over, swords lift into the air along with Cullen's.

My body shakes. I look to the sky and lift my sword to join theirs, letting their cheers pour into me. The smile that bursts across my lips is one of victory: victory for my people, victory for all of Thedas.

* * *

My advisors lead me to the great hall, which has sat empty and unused since we arrived. The walls are half crumbled, the foundation of the ceilings exposed and falling down.

Cullen turns on the spot, looking around as we all do. "So this is where it begins."

"It began in the courtyard," Leliana says. "This is where we turn that promise into action."

Josephine looks to me. "But what do we do? We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark."

I step ahead of them. My body is still numb after what happened in the courtyard. "Corypheus said he wanted to enter the Black City, that this would make him a god."

Leliana shakes her head. "He is willing to tear this world apart to reach the next. It won't matter if he's wrong."

"What if he's not wrong?" Cullen asks. "If he finds some other way into the Fade…"

"Then he gains the power he seeks or unleashes catastrophe on us all."

"Could his dragon really be an Archdemon?" I ask. "What would that mean?"

Leliana looks at me. "It would mean the beginning of another Blight."

Josephine pulls out her clipboard. "We've seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself. Perhaps it's not an Archdemon at all, but something different?"

"Whatever it is, it's dangerous," Cullen says, scowling. "Commanding such a creature gives Corypheus an advantage we can't ignore."

I step closer to them. "Corypheus wants to restore Tevinter. Is this a prelude to war with the Imperium?"

"I get the feeling we're dealing with extremists, not the vanguard of a true invasion," Cullen says. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Josephine holds up her quill. "Tevinter is not the Imperium of a thousand years ago. What Corypheus yearns to 'restore' no longer exists. Though they would shed no tears if the South fell to chaos, I'm certain."

I look up and down the hall again, my heart heavy. "_Could_ he strike us here? We can't have a repeat of what happened at Haven."

"Skyhold has the bones to withstand Corypheus," Cullen answers. "After what you did with one trebuchet, I'd bet against direct attack."

The smile on Leliana's face is mischievous. "We do have one advantage: we know what Corypheus intents to do _next_. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated."

"Imagine the chaos her death would cause," Josephine sighs. "With his army…"

Cullen grips his sword. "An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us."

"Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god."

Leliana sighs. "I'd feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with."

"I know someone who can help with that."

We all turn, watch Varric stalk his way into the room. I can't help but notice he looks slightly abashed.

"Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I—I sent a message to an old friend. She's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he's doing. She can help."

"I'm always looking for new allies," I say. "Introduce me."

Varric looks over shoulder, his eyes wide. "Parading around might cause a fuss. It's better for you to meet privately. She'll be here in two weeks. I'll let you know when she arrives. Meet her on the battlements."

I raise my eyebrows at him, barely containing my grin.

"Trust me," he sighs. "It's complicated." He waves his hand in dismissal and leaves, his head slightly bowed.

My advisors are quiet for a long moment. Then Josephine turns to me, shaking her head. "Well, then. We stand ready to move on both of these concerns."

Cullen inclines his head at me. "On your order, Inquisitor."

Leliana shakes her head, clasping her hands in front of her. "I know one thing: if Varric has brought who I _think_ he has, Cassandra is going to kill him."

I laugh. I had just been thinking the same thing, myself.


	19. Wake Up

**Am I wrong in saying this is the chapter we've all been waiting for? No? Good.**

**Also, for those wondering how my writing of this story is going so far on my end... As of right this second (it's the day before I post this chapter), I have 123k words written, 44 chapters. I'm close to the end. I've just started on WPHW. My plan is to move onto the dreaded scene with Solas after that (no! DX), the last mission, and then move on to a couple post-story chapters following the events of Trespasser. My guess is I should have around 50ish chapters for the main story. That definitely might change though.**

**Hope everyone is enjoying this story so far! I've really enjoyed writing it, getting in that headspace of my character. I started a dwarven play through a couple days ago and am having so much fun with it. She's very different from the other characters I've played. Can we all take a moment to appreciate this game and its replay value? ? ?**

**Also, I don't really picture my Inky having the British accent they gave in the game (no fault of the voice actor!). I picture her having more of the Welsh/Irish thing going on that the Dalish usually have in game, but a bit more subtle (like Solas's). In case you guys were wondering :) Which, I'm just realizing, I probably should've said earlier lol**

* * *

19 - Wake Up

It's strange, over the next few days, to walk around the castle and hear people address me as "Inquisitor." People I don't know bow to me. My friends even incline their heads at me as I pass by.

For the first time since we arrived, Solas looks up at me when I make my way across his rotunda. It makes me pause mid-stride.

"So," he says, standing. "It's 'Inquisitor' now."

"I guess."

He smiles, cocking his head to the side. "It is quite an honor for one of our people to hold."

I say nothing. I hesitate, watch as his eyebrows slowly furrow, his eyes narrowing. I then sigh. "I'm sorry. I…wasn't sure if you were avoiding me again. That's all."

"Oh," he breathes, his eyes softening. He then laughs. "I was merely letting you adjust. If you had wished to talk, I would have gladly done so." He sets down the book in his hands. "I also wished to give you time to explore. I could see you quite enjoyed walking throughout the castle."

I ignore the pattering of my heart. "Have you not wanted to explore the castle at all?"

"I already have. In the Fade."

I take what he says in stride, jumping on the chance. "Can you tell me more about your studies in the Fade?"

"More than what I have already told you?"

"Of course. I never tire of your stories."

He pauses. "You continue to surprise me," he says, eyebrows raised.

"Not in a bad way, I hope."

He laughs, throwing his head back. "No, never in a bad way. All right, let's talk… Preferably somewhere more interesting than this."

"Where can be more interesting than this?" I ask, gesturing to the walls around me.

"You wish to learn more of traveling the Fade, correct?"

"Yes…"

"Then tonight we start our first lesson. And you can ask me whatever questions you wish."

"T-tonight?" I stammer, unable to keep my voice steady. "Why tonight? Why not now?"

He laughs again. "To sleep of course, so we can dream."

"To…_sleep_?"

"How did you expect to travel the Fade if not by dreaming?"

My stomach does a strange flip. He wants me to come to his quarters…to sleep…with him?

"Come back here after night has fallen," he continues, seemingly unaware of the battle going on in my mind.

I swallow as he turns from me to sit back at his desk. "All right. I'll…be back tonight, then."

* * *

I come back after the sky turns dark, heart pounding and hands shaking. I hadn't bothered to change out of my day clothes, something he seems to notice right away.

"Do you normally sleep in your day things?" he asks after looking up from his desk.

"I—well, no."

He raises his eyebrows at me.

"I thought it might be a bit…well…awkward."

He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes going wide. He then chuckles. "I concede your point." He stands up from his desk, carrying a small bowl piled with flowers and leaves.

"_You_ haven't changed, either," I mumble, noting that he's still wearing the clothes from this afternoon.

"Great minds think alike, it seems." He smiles at me.

I mentally tell my heart to calm down as the flush spreads up my neck. "What're those herbs for?" I ask, trying for nonchalance.

"To aid your transition into the Fade."

The curiosity in my voice is not fake this time. "Herbs can do that?"

"Yes."

"So then…are there herbs that can _block_ access to the Fade?"

"Of course. I do not use them, for obvious reasons, so I do not know how effective they are."

"Hm…"

"Are you ready to proceed?"

I hesitate. "I guess."

At this, his eyes narrow just the slightest. "You cannot be unsure of yourself before entering the Fade. Your mind must be fully prepared, which means you cannot be hesitant."

His words sting me, something that makes my heart sink. "I _want_ to explore the Fade. That is not why I hesitate."

I _know_ he understands what I mean. There is a look in his eyes that makes my blood pulse faster. Then it's gone. "Come, then. I have set up a space."

"Where?" My voice is thick with confusion as I glance around the room. I see no signs of furniture at all, save for the desk directly in the middle.

"Up there."

I look up to the top of the scaffolding against one of the walls. "You sleep up there?"

He chuckles. "Not usually. I mainly use it to work."

"Oh," I breathe, seeing, for the first time, the sketch of a mural spanning from the floor to the ceiling. It is not yet finished.

"But tonight, it will serve as a perfect place to dream."

He lets me climb the ladder first. At the top, two bedrolls have been laid out. I hesitantly crawl into one, my heart stuttering. He joins a moment later, placing the bowl of herbs in the space between us. He waves his hand over it, creating just enough heat in their core to cause them to smoke. Their fragrance washes over me, sweet and delicious.

"Before the herbs take you, I must instill some caution."

"'Take me?'"

He ignores me. "As you no doubt will remember, the Fade will only adapt to be what you make of it. There is quite a large chance that our presence in the Fade will attract spirits."

My mouth goes dry.

"Spirits will only become demons if you expect them to do so. If we happen upon a spirit, think only of what it truly is, not what you _think_ it may be."

I nod. The scent of the herbs is starting to swirl around me, my mind slowly fogging over.

"I will be with you the entire time." Is the change in his voice the effect of the herbs _taking_ me? "I will keep you safe and guide you."

The smell is overpowering. My head swims with it.

"This will be _your_ dream. I will merely follow where you take me."

The only indication I have of my body falling is my vision suddenly blurring. I see his face slipping sideways, eyes wide in surprise as he reaches out to catch me before my head slams into the ground.

* * *

It happens quickly. One moment I'm sitting on the bedroll, head falling. Next, I'm standing on the dock just outside the walls of Haven. I take a deep, shuddering breath as I turn, looking at my surroundings.

It feels so real.

"That happened much faster than I anticipated."

I jump, spinning back around to find Solas standing behind me. "Was it not supposed to happen like so?"

He smiles. "No, and yes. I had expected it to take a few minutes for you to succumb to the herbs. It took you under a minute." He shrugs. "A simple miscalculation."

"Is…that bad?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

"No. It just shows your willingness to venture into the Fade." He inclines his head. "I should not have doubted your convictions."

I take a moment to look around again. Haven is whole, untouched by the avalanche, and the Breach still shines bright in the sky in the distance. "This is so real," I whisper.

"Do you see why I enjoy it so?"

I don't answer his question, instead asking one of my own as I walk toward the gates. "Why here?"

"Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you." He begins to walk away from me, through the gates and up the steps.

I sigh and follow him. "Where are you taking me?"

He looks at me over his shoulder. "I figured you might be curious about what happened before you woke up."

Before I woke up? When?

He walks in silence through the town, up to the Chantry. I hold my tongue, waiting for him to speak. I hesitate only briefly as he opens the door to the dungeons and heads down. He stops in the center of the cells.

I take a deep breath. Now I know what he had meant. This is where I had woken with the mark newly imprinted on my hand.

"I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor."

I don't look at the chains still laying across the ground. I watch him, watch his eyes focus on the spot where I had once sat. My heart hums in my chest at the thought of him sitting there next to me, my hand in his lap. I swallow. "How long can it take to look at a mark on my hand?"

He seems to come back to himself, turning toward me. "A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique breach in the Veil?" He raises his eyebrows. "Longer than you might think."

"Well, I'm glad someone was watching over me."

"You were a mystery." He hesitates for the smallest moment. "You still are."

My heart hums. "Am I?"

"I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing." He smiles, his face brightening. "Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn't produce results."

My mouth twitches. "Cassandra's like that with everyone."

He laughs, the sound echoing in the cells and making my heart race. "Yes." He turns then, nods his head at me to follow.

"What happened then?"

He pauses once we're back outside, staring up at the Breach. "You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?" He stops, turns toward me, his head twisted to the side. "I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach."

Why had he been frightened? At his fate? Mine?

"Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra…or she in me. I was ready to flee."

I raise my eyebrows at him, my voice hitching in surprise. "The Breach threatened the whole world. Where did you plan to go?"

The smile on his face is one of shame. "Someplace far away where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me."

I cover my mouth, barely hiding the smile on my face.

He inclines his head, his eyes crinkling with his own smile. "I never said it was a _good_ plan."

I laugh then. "No, definitely not the best."

He turns away from me to face the Breach. He reaches out his hand toward where it hovers in the sky. "I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rifts." He lowers his hand, his eyes darkening. "I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…"

I know he's remembering the moment we met, when he had grabbed my hand and helped me close that first rift. My heart hammers as he turns toward me.

"'It seems you hold the key to our salvation.' You had sealed it with a gesture…and right then, I felt the whole world change."

A shockwave rushes through my body, my heart beating so fast it hurts. I hold my breath. "Felt…the whole world change?" I whisper.

He hesitates. "A…figure of speech."

"I'm aware of the metaphor. It's…" I pause, my hands shaking, "the word 'felt' I'm more interested in."

I watch the sadness darken his eyes. "You…" he pauses, stepping toward me, "change everything."

So, his future self _hadn't_ just been indulging me. He felt something.

My head is swimming, my chest pulsing fast with my breaths. "Sweet talker," I whisper. The jest in my voice that had tainted the words back in the Hinterlands is gone.

His ears turn pink and suddenly he looks like a young boy, unable to hold the gaze of the girl batting her eyes in front of him. But he doesn't turn away soon enough. I see it in his eyes: that spark I had only seen hints of, the one he fights so hard to keep locked away.

A rush of courage washes over me. I take a step forward, hesitate for just a moment before reaching up. I see the surprise in his face, see his eyebrows arch upwards as I grab his cheek, forcing him to look into my eyes. Quickly, before I can talk myself out of it, I lean forward, press my lips to his.

It lasts only a second, but that second makes my skin burn. My throat tightens, my chest heaves. My mouth is too dry…his lips too stiff.

Oh, Dread Wolf, what did I just do? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I take a step back. He's looking at me, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. I swallow hard, taking another step back, my body trembling.

His eyes soften, softer than I've ever seen, as he shakes his head in astonishment. I start to turn away, wanting nothing more than to run as fast as I can away from this, from what I've done, from the embarrassment making my face flush.

He grabs me before I get the chance, pulling me back. I gasp in surprise as he pulls me into him, his arms wrapping around me. My heart pounds as his lips press to mine, moving, tasting.

I let myself get lost in him, melting into the rhythm his lips make against mine. I reach up, let my hand wrap around his cheek, pulling his face closer.

He pushes away, his eyes burning. Again, he shakes his head. But his stare is open, holding back none of the desire I've seen flickers of for weeks. More slowly this time, he leans back toward me, pulling me into him.

This time he fully lets go, taking a few steps back as his arms unravel from around my waist. "We shouldn't. It isn't right. Not even here."

Disappointment floods my veins. I'd almost forgotten. "This isn't real," I sigh.

He smiles, twisting his mouth in a mischievous way. "That's a matter of debate… Probably best discussed after you _wake up_."

* * *

**EEEEKKK! Yeah, I love this scene way too much lol. Also, I decided to make her well aware they were in the Fade cause I feel that the Breach still existing and Haven being unharmed by the avalanche should've been a dead give away for the Inquisitor. So I figured this was primetime to give them some "quality" time together lol**


	20. The Boy Spirit

20 - The Boy Spirit

I sit up, gasping, my chest pulsing madly. I glance around, disoriented, forgetting where I am. It looks to still be dark out. How much time had passed? I look at the bedroll next to mine.

It's empty.

I don't move for a moment, breathing heavily. I reach up, touch my lips, fail to hold back the smile under my fingers. I finally shake my head, rolling on my stomach to inch forward, toward the edge. I peek down, my heart hammering when I see Solas sitting at the desk below.

His eyes dart up to where mine barely poke out from the top of the scaffolding. His mouth twitches as he looks back down at his book. "Sleep well?"

Oh, you smug son of a bitch. I swallow hard, poke my head out farther so my face is exposed. "That was…" I clear my throat. "When you said you were taking me to the Fade, I wasn't expecting…well, to be _doing it_ in the Fade." Not that I'm complaining.

He laughs, tossing his head back. He then stands, walks over to the bottom of the ladder, places his hand against the side railing. "I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it."

I shift so I hover above him. "I…don't mind impulsive."

His ears turn pink again as he smirks, but he says nothing.

I huff. "You say that, but you're the one who started with tongue."

His eyes widen as he tilts his head to the side. "I did no such thing!"

"Oh," I laugh, "does it not count if it's only Fade-tongue?"

"What?!" I hear from above. We both look up to see Dorian looking over the edge of the railing.

"Oh, shut up, Dorian," I holler back. "You're ruining this."

Solas sighs, shaking his head.

"You did kiss me back," I whisper. "If I'm pressuring you…"

"No, you're not. I am…perhaps pressuring myself. It…has been a long time, and things have always been…easier for me in the Fade." He looks up at me, his eyes torn. "I am…not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble."

My heart pounds as I realize he's not necessarily saying no. I shift, swing my legs over the edge so I can climb down. I turn as I touch the ground, surprised to see he hasn't moved an inch. He stands so close it makes my stomach drop.

"I'm willing to take that chance, if you are," I whisper.

His eyes open wide, showing that conflict again. "I…may be, yes." He takes the smallest step toward me and I clasp my hands behind my back, grabbing the ladder, not wanting to ruin this chance. He lowers his voice, speaking in hardly a whisper. "If I could take a little time to think. There are…considerations."

"Take all the time you need," I say, ignoring the way my heart soars.

He hesitates for the smallest moment before reaching up to pull on my chin. It makes me burn and I have to take a deep breath to steady myself.

"Thank you," he says. "I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams." He lets go, taking a step back. "But I am reasonably certain we are awake now, and if you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking."

I can't even begin to describe how that makes my heart feel, knowing that a part of him, no matter how subdued, wants me. But I hold myself together, careful not to cross the line he has drawn between us.

"Later. I should…probably head to my own quarters. Before _Dorian—_" I yell the last word, "starts letting his mouth run away with him."

Dorian pokes his head back over the railing to scowl at me, which makes Solas laugh. But I don't miss that glimpse of disappointment in Solas's eyes as I leave, heading back to my own bed.

* * *

As much as I would love to head straight to Solas the next morning, I instead go to Josephine's office, knowing that since I'm now the Inquisitor, she likely has things for us to do.

"I've made more inquiries into the Imperial Court," she says as soon as I walk in. "The sooner we deal with the threat to the Empress, the better. The political situation in the Empire is dangerously unstable. It will complicate matters."

Cullen sulks into the room then. "Everything in the Empire complicates matters. It's the Orlesian national pastime."

I jump when Leliana appears behind me. She hadn't even made a noise coming in.

"Turn your nose up at the Grand Game if you like, Commander, but we play for the highest stakes, and to the death."

Josephine shifts in her massive chair. "The court's disapproval can be as great a threat as the Venatori. We must be vigilant, to avert disaster."

"Don't worry, Josephine," I sigh. "We'll protect the Empress, no matter what."

"I pray you're right. If your vision of the future comes to pass… The death of the Empress heralds the destruction of everything. Orlais holds Tevinter at bay. All of Thedas could be lost if the Empire falls to Corypheus. Celene is holding peace talks under the auspices of a Grand Masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there." She leans forward, laying her hands across her desk. "It's the perfect place for an assassin to hide."

"A Grand Masquerade?" I say, raising my eyebrows. "I need to go shopping."

Josephine doesn't bat an eye. "I'll arrange for an invitation at your discretion, Inquisitor."

"How far out is this Grand Masquerade?" I ask.

"We have a few months."

At that, Cullen and Leliana leave. I realize then that Cassandra hadn't been there. What could she possibly be doing that pulled her away from these talks?

On my way to the courtyard, I find Varric staring at me at the end of the great hall, his eyebrows raised.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Just want to take a moment to gloat."

I sigh. "About what?"

"'Fade-tongue?'"

I groan. "Not you, too, Varric."

He holds up his hands. "Word travels fast around here. Especially when conversations happen in a room where sound travels very…efficiently."

"Just shut it, okay?"

He laughs. "I told you so, you know."

I sigh, rubbing my forehead as I walk away from him and out the front door.

I find Cassandra rather quickly, due to her raised voice, along with Vivienne's. I make my way through the courtyard to where I hear them arguing. It's only when I get there that I see Solas standing with them. My heart thuds and I nearly trip on my way down the stairs.

"This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet," Vivienne says, pointing at Solas. "It has no business being here."

The scowl on Solas's face is so prominent it's hard to imagine that, just a few hours ago, it had held such softness. "Wouldn't you say the same of an apostate?"

Vivienne glares at him.

Cassandra sees me approach then. "Inquisitor."

I ignore how Solas's posture changes just the smallest bit when I join their circle.

"I wondered if Cole was perhaps a mage, given his unusual abilities," Cassandra continues.

Solas clears his throat. He tries, too hard I see, to keep his shoulders back and face impassive. "He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him. These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit."

My heart stutters.

Vivienne crosses her arms over her chest. "It is a demon."

"If you prefer," Solas says. "Although the truth is somewhat more complex."

"Cole warned us about Corypheus at Haven," I say. "He saved a lot of lives."

Solas turns to me, his eyes showing hints of that softness.

"And what will its help cost?" Vivienne exclaims. "How many lives will this demon later claim?"

Solas rolls his eyes. "In fact, his nature is not so easily defined."

"Speak plainly, Solas," Cassandra sighs. "What _are_ we dealing with?"

"Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous."

"But you claim Cole looks like a young man," Cassandra says. "Is it possession?"

"No," Solas answers. "He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects." He turns away from Cassandra, toward me. "Cole is unique, lethallan. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so."

I hesitate. "In my studies—" In what little of them I had, "demons either possessed something from this world or were summoned and bound. They almost never look like something you'd mistake for a person."

"Normally, you would be correct. But Cole has willfully manifested in human form without possessing anyone."

"The demons who came through the Breach, or through the rifts, weren't possessing anything."

His eyes darken with sadness. "These demons were drawn through against their will, driven mad by this world. But Cole predates the Breach. From what we can tell, he has lived here for months, perhaps years. He looks like a young man. For all intents and purposes, he _is_ a young man. It is remarkable."

I can feel my heart speeding up. Here is a spirit, in physical form, whom we can converse with. Learn from. Just like Solas has been doing in the Fade on his own for years. The idea excites me. I reign that excitement in, draw myself up. "I should hear what Cole has to say for himself." I turn, looking around the immediate area. I _thought_ I saw him picking at some flowers when I came down here, but… "Where is he now?"

Cassandra sighs in frustration. "If none of us remember him, he could be anywhere…"

Solas touches my shoulder. It makes me take a sharp inhale of air. I look up at him and he nods his head toward the nearest group of tents.

Cole is standing there, hovering over the soldiers laying on the ground, being treated by healers. I don't hesitate. I turn toward him, leaving the three of them behind.

"Haven," Cole whispers as I approach him. "So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape." He watches one of the men laying on the ground. His voice drops to the point I can barely hear him speak. "Choking fear, can't think from the medicine but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat." He grimaces, fidgeting with his sleeves. His voice shakes with such deep sadness. "Hot white pain, everything burns." He reaches up to his face, sobbing into his hand. "I can't, I can't, I'm going to… I'm dying, I'm…" His face changes, the shaking in his voice gone. "Dead."

I look at the soldier he's staring at. He's no longer moving, his chest still. I take a deep breath, understanding hitting me so abruptly it makes my mouth go dry. "You're feeling their pain?"

He looks at me. "It's louder this close, with so many of them."

I look around, at all the soldiers lying there. "Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?"

He thinks for a moment, finally nodding his head. "Yes. But here is where I can help."

I watch in silence as he walks up to another soldier, voicing the man's thoughts until he, too, goes still. He then shifts again, walking to a woman whose thoughts scream for water. He kneels down next to her.

"Here," he says, handing her a cup.

"Thank you," she moans.

He looks at me. "It's all right. She won't remember me."

I cannot keep the amazement out of my voice. "You're using your powers as a spirit to help people?"

"Yes. I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know. I made mistakes…but I made friends, too. Then a Templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help."

I hesitate. I know the risks, but with everything I've learned about spirits from Solas, I cannot turn him away. "If you're willing, the Inquisition could use your help."

"Yes," he sighs. "Helping. I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone…" He walks up to one last soldier. I feel my heart sink, knowing what he's going to say before he starts. "Hurts, it hurts, it hurts, someone make it stop hurting, Maker please…" He turns to me, his already sad eyes drooping. "The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help."

My heart aches, but I hear the truth in his voice. "All right. Help him."

Cole bends down, holding a dagger in his hand. "It's all right," he whispers.

It's quick. The man stops moving within seconds.

Cole stands to his feet. "I want to stay."

And then he's gone, as if he'd never been there in the first place. I swallow, turning my eyes away from the three dead men at my feet.

Solas's hand on my shoulder makes me shake my head. "Thank you."


	21. It Is

21 - It Is

I seek out Cassandra after Solas leaves. I find her swinging her sword at some practice dummies, as usual.

"Have you met this 'friend' of Varric's, Inquisitor?"

"Not yet, no."

She scowls. "It better not be who I think it is. I will wring that little bastard's neck."

"Why?" I ask, unable to keep the smile off my face. "Who do you think it is?"

"Someone Varric claimed he could not contact. Someone the Inquisition—indeed, all of Thedas—desperately needed." She sighs, wringing her hands. "I'll reserve judgment until I know for certain. No need to have that little rogue screaming 'persecution' yet again."

I laugh, leaving her to take out her frustrations on the dummies as I head back to my quarters. I desperately need a bath.

* * *

Despite our "adventure" into the Fade, the atmosphere between Solas and I isn't as tense as I thought it would be. He's open with me—more open than usual—and doesn't protest when I wander into his study. Many times, I find myself sitting on his desk, listening to him read aloud whatever passage he happens to be on in his books. It soothes me more than I can imagine and more than once I have to stop myself from reaching out to grab his hand. Many of those times, I swear I see a twitch of his mouth as if he knows exactly what is going through my mind.

One of the days, I walk into his rotunda to find the mural he had sketched out completed. He must have been up most of the night finishing it.

"Wow," I murmur. "What is it?"

"Hm?" I hear him shut his book. "Oh. It's the story of the Inquisition. _Your_ story."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "But…_what_ is it? I've…never been that great at interpreting art."

He stands next to me, his elbow brushing mine. It makes my stomach leap. "The explosion at the Conclave."

"Oh," I breathe, looking at it again. I can see it now, in the harsh lines, the beams of light. "It's beautiful."

He says nothing, but the way his eyes bore into mine make my face flush.

Other days I spend in the library with Dorian, listening to him talk of his homeland and the more controversial aspects of his culture. It's quite fascinating, and I find myself intrigued despite the Tevinter reputation. True to my suspicions, he's great company and I quite enjoy myself when around him.

"So, what happened between you two, anyway," he asks one day, faking nonchalance as he flips through the books on the shelves.

I sigh. I figured he would've asked this a few days ago. "Nothing, really."

He laughs. "Oh, it _definitely_ wasn't nothing. What's 'Fade-tongue?' I haven't stopped thinking about it for ages."

"Use your imagination," I say, rolling my eyes with a smile.

"Oh, I have been."

I slap my forehead, sighing. "Honestly, nothing has happened…again."

He twitches his mustache. "I see. So you don't spend all your spare time down in his room fawning over him and his _dreamy_ voice, do you?"

"I swear, why do my two best friends here have to make things so difficult?"

"What, me? Make things difficult? Oh, I wouldn't _dream_ of doing that."

Solas's voice rings up from the bottom of the rotunda. "You always make things difficult, Dorian. You're just too loud to hear it."

Dorian peeks over the edge of the railing. "Ah, Solas. You startled me. You're always so…nondescript."

Solas looks up from his sketch then. "Please speak up! I cannot hear you over your outfit!"

I laugh at the looks on their faces. No matter their harsh words, I can see the jest in their eyes and mouths as they speak. Dorian throws me an overly exaggerated gasp of shock before turning away. I glance back down at Solas, find him still staring up at me. He smirks and then winks, turning away when my face goes red to finish his drawing.

* * *

Varric finally calls for me, telling me his "friend" is here to meet me. I do as he suggested, heading up to the battlements.

Varric stands alone. I walk up behind him, raise my eyebrows when he turns to look at me. He then gestures behind me. "Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."

The woman standing there is exactly how I had pictured her. I barely keep myself from squealing in delight, finally looking upon the woman who was the star of most of Varric's stories back in Haven. She's tall, fair skinned, with dark blue eyes and shoulder length black hair. She holds herself like someone who has seen much heartache, but pushed through for the sake of those around her.

"Though," she says as she steps down to our level, "I don't use that title much anymore."

Varric gestures to me. "Hawke, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus." We incline our heads at each other as Varric smirks. "You and I did fight him, after all."

Wait, what?!

The shock that rolls through my body makes me freeze. Varric turns away. I throw him a glare. I then turn toward Hawke, who is leaning against the wall to look down on the courtyard. She looks back at me and shrugs.

"You've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison."

"Oh, I don't know. You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari."

She chuckles. "I don't see how that really applies… Or is there a horde of rampaging Qunari I don't know about?"

I smile. "There's _a_ Qunari. He almost qualifies as a horde all by himself. Fortunately, he's on our side."

She takes a breath. "So, then, what can I tell you?"

"Varric said that you fought Corypheus before."

She glances back at Varric, who is draining a bottle while listening to our conversation. "Fought and killed. The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them."

Varric steps forward after setting down his drink. "Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other."

"If the Wardens have disappeared," Hawke says, "they could have fallen under his control again."

My heart sinks. So the disappearance of the Grey Wardens does point toward something more sinister. I sigh in defeat. "So Corypheus has the Venatori, the Red Templars, and now possibly the Wardens as well?" I roll my eyes. It's looking more and more like Leliana's suspicions were correct. Like always. "Wonderful."

"I didn't come this far just to give you bad news. I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing."

"Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks," Varric says. "Did your friend disappear with them?"

She shakes her head. "No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood."

"If you didn't know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?" I ask.

"The Templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium. It was red. I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it."

I take a sharp breath. "Corypheus had Templars with him at Haven. They looked like they'd been exposed to red lyrium."

"Hopefully my friend in the Wardens will know more."

I nod my head at her. "I appreciate the help."

"I'm doing this as much for myself as for you. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I'd killed him before. This time, I'll make sure of it."

Varric waves at us. "I'll…leave you two to talk. You might find you have a lot in common." He grins at me before he leaves.

She leans against the wall and I join her. I hesitate, staring at this woman who I've heard so much about. It seems surreal, having her standing in front of me. After all Varric's stories, she almost seemed too good to be true. But here she is. One hundred percent real. My mind goes blank, screaming in glee. It's a miracle I'm able to keep a straight face.

I clear my throat. "You said you thought you killed Corypheus?"

"The Grey Wardens had him imprisoned. They used my father's blood in a ritual to seal Corypheus inside. But he could still reach out and influence the Wardens' thoughts. He sent them after me. And I didn't just _think_ I killed him. When the fight was done, he was dead on the ground." She sighs, a frustrated sound. "Maybe his tie to the Blight somehow brought him back, or maybe it's old Tevinter magic…but he was dead. I swear it."

This makes me extremely nervous. Had Hawke somehow been mistaken? Had she _thought_ she killed him? What if she did, though? What did that mean?

"I assume Varric's been feeding you information about the Inquisition? What did he say about me?"

She laughs. "Only good things, I promise. He likes you." She reaches up, scratches her nose. "I was a little surprised, actually. Varric isn't one for religion in general, but he thinks highly of the Inquisition. Especially you."

My heart softens a bit. Maybe I won't yell at him about this later. I'll leave that to Cassandra… Or, on second thought, I might have to keep her from wringing his neck, too.

"I think the exact phrase was 'has a good shot at fixing Blondie's mess.'"

I clear my throat. "Speaking of Blondie…what was Anders like?"

"I don't know if there was ever just an 'Anders.' He was…crazy. By the end, there was nothing left in him except this insane need to start a war no one could win."

"Why are you here alone? Where are all your friends and family?"

"When all the Wardens started acting strangely, I had my friend Aveline take my sister away from the Free Marches. I had to keep my family safe. Fenris would have killed himself to protect me. I didn't want to give him that chance."

All those names turn something in my memories. Varric had mentioned all of them at least a few times, but I cannot seem to remember them all. Fenris I _do_ remember. He had been, or still was, Hawke's lover: an ex-slave elf. But Aveline? And what was her sister's name again? I shake my head, rubbing the bridge of my nose to clear my mind.

"So…where did you go after the mages rebelled?"

"I heard the Chantry might be sending an Exalted March to Kirkwall to put down the rebellion. I hoped that leaving would save lives and force the Divine to divide her forces to come after me. As it turned out, I needn't have bothered. All the Circles started rising up, and the Exalted March never came."

We talk for quite awhile longer, until the sun starts to set. I finally look down at the courtyard, see Cassandra stalking toward the blacksmith's in a rage.

Shit. That's where Varric had gone. I'm sure of it. "I should get going."

"Then I'll see you in Crestwood. It might take me quite awhile to get there unnoticed. I'll send word once I'm there."

I can hear their voices coming from above me when I walk inside. I run up the stairs, listening to their feet moving quickly across the wood as they yell at each other.

"You knew where Hawke was all along!" Cassandra screams.

"You're damn right I did!"

"You conniving little shit!"

I watch as she swings at him. Varric ducks, diving behind her. He runs around the other side of the table. "You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?"

I sprint forward. "Hey! Enough!"

Cassandra turns her rage on me. "You're taking _his_ side?"

"I said _enough_!"

They both scoff.

"We needed someone to lead this Inquisition," Cassandra says to Varric. "First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished. Then we looked for Hawke, but she was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no. It was just you. You kept her from us."

Varric glares at her, gesturing to me. "The Inquisition _has_ a leader."

"Hawke would have been at the Conclave! If _anyone_ could have saved Most Holy…"

I shake my head, ignoring the stab of anger I feel at this small revelation on her part. I tell myself that I shouldn't take it too personally. There was no way they automatically thought of me to lead the Inquisition after I stepped out of the Fade. That was something I earned.

"Varric's not responsible for what happened at the Conclave," I say, trying to remain calm.

"I was protecting my friend!" he screams.

"Varric is a liar, Inquisitor. A snake. Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, Varric kept her secret."

He shakes his head, his eyes still hard. "She's with us now. We're on the same side!"

"We all know who's side you're on, Varric. It will never be the Inquisition's."

My head is pounding. I take a deep breath, pinching my nose. "That's unworthy of you, Cassandra."

She scowls at me for a moment. Then her face falls. She steps away, leans onto the table with her back to us. "I must not think of what could have been. We have so much at stake. Go, Varric. Just…go."

I nod at him, try to convey that I'm not angry with him. Just slightly disappointed. He nods back at me and turns, walking down the stairs. He stops just before he's out of sight.

"You know what I think? If Hawke had been at the Temple, she'd be dead, too. You people have done enough to her."

I can't help but agree with him. She would've died. Cassandra hopes for too much.

"I…believed him," Cassandra sighs. "He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it. If I'd just explained what was at stake…if I'd just made him understand…" She stands, turning to me, her face pained. "But I didn't, did I? I didn't explain why we needed Hawke." She sighs deeply, dropping down into a chair. "I am such a fool."

I kneel down in front of her. "What if you hadn't believed him, and you'd tracked Hawke down?"

"Honestly, Hawke might not even have agreed to become Inquisitor. She supported the mage rebellion, after all. She wouldn't have trusted me for a second. But this isn't about Hawke, or even Varric. Not truly. I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter. I don't deserve to be here." The last words come out in a rush, full of sadness.

"You're too hard on yourself, Cassandra."

"Not hard enough, I think."

"You can't believe that."

She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving. "I want you to know, I have no regrets. Maybe if we'd found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn't have needed to send you. But he did."

I stand up. She follows me.

"You're…not what I'd pictured. But if I've learned anything, it's that I know less than nothing."


	22. Judgement

**I hope everyone had a good holiday weekend? I also hope you are all enjoying this story :) **

**Happy reading!**

* * *

22- Judgement

Varric is sitting in the great hall, his head bowed, sulking. He looks at me as I walk in, his eyes blank. He nods at me.

"Cassandra's calmed down. I think you can take your hand off your crossbow."

"Define 'calmed down' for me in terms of who or what she's punching right now." He stands, sighing deeply. "I wasn't trying to keep secrets. I told the Inquisition everything that seemed important at the time."

"I know, Varric. You never would've kept quiet otherwise."

His face sags with sadness. "I keep hoping…none of this is real. Maybe it's all some bullshit from the Fade, and it'll just disappear." He hesitates, his face sagging even more. It makes me feel like I'm sinking into the ground. "I know I need to do better. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Varric. You don't need to apologize."

He sighs, his face not quite brightening enough to make me happy. He walks over to the small fireplace in the corner of the room. "Corypheus is back… Well, shit."

"You said he was a darkspawn…or a Magister. What is he really?"

He shrugs. "I'm not sure. I don't think Corypheus really knows either." He shakes his head, rubbing his forehead. "He's definitely a darkspawn. But…when we found him, it was pretty obvious he hadn't heard that."

I hold my tongue.

"He thinks he's a Magister—a priest of Dumat, in fact. And he says he broke into the Golden City, like in the Chantry tale."

"If you and Hawke defeated him once, we can do it again."

His eyebrows furrow together. "We didn't just _think_ Corypheus was dead. He was dead. No pulse! No breath! Full of stab wounds! There wasn't a lot of room for doubt. It makes me wonder… I thought the Wardens imprisoned Corypheus to use him. Maybe they did it because he can't be killed."

My blood runs cold. There doesn't seem to be much room for doubt anymore. How could both Hawke and Varric mistake Corypheus for dead if he wasn't? "How did you and Hawke even wind up in a Grey Warden prison for ancient darkspawn?"

"Corypheus sent people after Hawke. He actually got control of an entire Carta clan. Made them drink darkspawn blood. Weird shit." He looks away from me, at the fire, his eyes unfocused. "We tracked the Carta to an old dwarven…fort or something in the mountains. Of course, it turned out to be a trap." He looks back up at me. "They needed Hawke's blood to open the locks holding Corypheus, and they drew us into the prison to get it."

I sigh. "There has to be a way to defeat Corypheus. We'll find it, don't worry."

He looks at me for a long moment, the smile finally winding its way back across his face. "I hope you're right." He breathes out again, shaking his head as he looks at his feet. "Maker's breath, what have I let loose?"

"You had nothing to do with this, Varric."

"I was the one who led Hawke to Corypheus. If I hadn't tracked the Carta to that ruin…" He shakes his head, quick and short. "But you've got more important things to do than listen to me worry. Just let me know when you want something shot."

"Will do, Varric."

* * *

The renovators work tirelessly over the next couple of days repairing the damage to the castle. The great hall is done first, the wood once scattered across the floor gone, the ceiling repaired. Then, just hours after it's done, a giant throne is brought in and placed at the back of the room.

I walk up to it, my heart pattering oddly. I hadn't expected this. Was this what it meant to be Inquisitor? To sit on this throne and wait for people to worship me?

"Impressive, is it not?"

I turn as Josephine walks up behind me.

"Fit for a leader. Meant to show influence—and the burden of it."

I throw her a look that makes her falter in her steps.

"It is where the Inquisition will sit in judgement. Where _you_ will set in judgement."

"And, who will I be judging, exactly?" I ask, my voice tainted by the displeasure I feel.

"Those who have done wrong. You will know _of_ them, at the very least. All this presumes they have survived their initial encounter with you, of course."

I sigh. "Still more lives in my hands."

"You are a beacon of law, Inquisitor, as others retreat from responsibility. But this needn't be bloody. The Inquisition's sovereignty is derived from the allies who validate it. You are both empowered and bound. Justice has many tools. If their application is clever, execution may even seem merciful by comparison."

This doesn't settle well in my stomach. I swallow against the bile rising in my throat. "And I'm guessing you have someone for me to judge?"

She nods. "Take the throne when you're ready. We will bring him before you."

People begin to pile into the room once I sit down, most likely to watch my first ever judgement. I'm only mildly surprised by who Josephine brings in.

"You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter. Ferelden has given him to us as acknowledgement of your aid."

Oh, how wonderful.

"The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination—on your own life, no less."

The Alexius who is thrust before me is one who has little life left in his eyes. He does not hold himself has he had during our encounters. His shoulders are slumped forward, his mouth downturned. His hood is pulled back, revealing short black hair, cropped almost to the scalp.

"Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former Magister as you see fit."

He does not look at me. He stares at his feet, his chest moving slowly.

I try to muster up my strength and confidence. I cross my legs, shifting uncomfortably. "Remind me, what's the precedent for nearly ripping apart time at the seams?"

He finally looks up. "I couldn't save my son. Do you think my fate matters to me?"

"Will you offer nothing more in your defense?" Josephine asks.

He sneers. "You've won nothing. The people you saved, the acclaim you've gathered—you'll lose it all in the storm to come." He looks at me, his eyes hard. "Render your judgement, Inquisitor."

I swallow, letting my mind ruminate on what I should do.

Should I execute him? That…doesn't settle well and I quickly dismiss the thought.

Make him a Tranquil? No… I couldn't do that either.

Make him work for the mages? Maybe…

Or, better yet…

I nod my head, making my decision. "Your magic was theoretically _impossible_, Alexius." I square off my shoulders, hold them back. "I could use people like you. Your sentence is to serve, under guard, as a researcher on all things magical for the Inquisition."

He almost seems disappointed. "No execution?"

Had he wanted death? It makes me feel better about my decision. Giving him what he wants is not what _I_ would want.

"Very well," he sighs.

He is marched away by guards and I feel my chest sag under the weight of my shoulders.

* * *

"What is wrong, lethallan?"

I sigh. "I hadn't realized this was what was expected of me as Inquisitor."

He waits for me to sit down on his desk before speaking. "What was it you were expecting?"

"I…I don't know. Not this."

"The weight of leadership can be overwhelming."

I watch him as he finishes the last touches on his sketch. He then gets up, crossing the room to the blank stretch of wall directly next to the mural.

"Do you mind if I watch?" I ask.

"Not at all. Your presence is…calming. I would enjoy it."

The rush of emotions in my veins makes my heart skip. I smile, hopping down to climb up the scaffolding with him.

He sketches the outlines of the mural first, starting at the ceiling and moving down to the floor. It takes a surprisingly short amount of time. By the time he is done, the sun is just barely starting to set.

"Do you not wish to sleep?" he asks, seeming to remember I'm still there.

I shake my head. "I could watch this all day and night." My voice cracks after the hours of disuse.

He chuckles. "I do not mind if you stay. I just wanted to make sure you're…comfortable."

"Very much."

"Would you like to hear more stories of my journeys while I continue?"

I fidget excitedly. "Of course."

I wait patiently as he gets everything ready, mixing colors and the plaster. He then works fast, laying the plaster out following the design he had already sketched. And then, once that's done and before it dries, he goes back over with the pigments, painting with speed and precision. His lines are crisp, even if some of the paint dribbles down, marking the portion below.

As he works he talks, his words flowing as if he isn't totally aware of his speech.

"I found the ruin of Barindur, a lost Tevinter city buried deep beneath a dead and barren wasteland. Volcanic ash had sealed it tight. In one dark moment, every living creature in the city seared and smothered. They were statues in the ashes, like a mold made to recall the lost…

"I saw a savage human horde go marching toward the battlefront. They sang a soldier's hymn to keep formation. The primal music shook the ground. These savage unwashed warriors carried harmonies no Chantry choir has mastered. Though their cause was all but hopeless, they sang songs that made the spirits weep…

"I met a friendly spirit who observed the dreams of village girls as love first blossomed in their adolescence. With subtlety, she steered them all to village boys with gentle hearts and who would return their love with gentle kindness. The Matchmaker, so I called her." He pauses then, seeming to come back to himself. "That small village never knew its luck…"

At some point, his voice becomes a soft hum that lulls me into a deep and wonderful sleep. I do not hear the end.

* * *

I wake back in my room. I have no memory of coming back here. The last thing I remember is hearing Solas's words float over me as he worked. And then darkness.

Had he brought me here after I'd fallen asleep? The thought makes my neck burn.

I call for someone to draw me a bath before I head down. Once in the great hall, I see Varric sitting at one of the tables near the front, his head bent over it in concentration.

He looks up at me as I approach him.

"Is this a bad time?" I ask. "I can come back."

"No, it's all right," he says, standing straight and stretching his arms. "Bills are really not that engrossing. I've been meaning to come talk with you, anyhow."

"Oh? About what?"

"I…never officially joined the Inquisition. I don't know how to do this…disciplehood thing. I'm a businessman. Never really followed a chosen one before."

"I don't need a disciple. I need a friend," I say, raising my eyebrows at him.

He laughs. "If you knew how intimidating you are, you wouldn't make it sound so simple. You just don't know what you are to the people out there. The Herald of Andraste is a symbol bigger than any of us."

"So what exactly am I to the people out there?" I ask. My mind instantly wanders to an image of me as a large and dark figure, looming over the people below her. It makes my stomach squirm.

"The sky tears open. Demons everywhere. To ordinary folks, these are the end times. The only hope they have is you. You're the sign that somebody might hear their prayers, that maybe they're not abandoned, after all. You heard the crowd singing after Haven was attacked."

"Please tell me you aren't going to burst into song now," I ask, rubbing my forehead.

"Don't worry, I'm not that cruel," he chuckles.

I hesitate. "Tell me the truth, Varric. Do you actually think I was sent by Andraste?"

"Shit, this is going to be awkward. I guess…I do?" His voice hitches at the end, almost as if he doubts or is surprised by those words coming from his mouth. "Either you're guided by the hand of some higher power, or you have the _worst_ luck."

I laugh. "I wouldn't have pegged you as Andrastian."

"It's a great story. It's got heroism, love, betrayal, and random musical numbers. What's not to like? I don't have a nug in this race. It could be bullshit, it could be true. I'll never know. But I like the idea that maybe you could save the world with a song."

"Why are those my only options?"

"Look at all the shit that's happened to you. You were saved from the explosion that leveled a mountaintop, and fell out of the Fade. You traveled through time. Faced down one of the ancient Magisters who started the Blights. Had a mountain fall on you. And lived. _One_ of those things would be impossible. All of them together? That's a miracle."

"So, on the basis of my extraordinarily bad luck, you think I'm Andraste's Herald."

"If you know the story of Andraste, you know that bad luck is sort of her thing." He then points back at the table behind him. "I should probably get back to work, unless…" He raises one of his eyebrows, grin spreading up his cheek. "You up for a game of Wicked Grace?"

I smile at him. "Of course. Teach me."

* * *

"Solas, do you find me intimidating?" I ask as I walk into his study, not even bothering to say hi.

"Very much," he mutters.

I hesitate as I look down at where he sits. Something seems…off. His eyes are dark, his cheeks slightly hollower than usual. He takes a quick sip of his tea and then grimaces, shaking his head and wiping his mouth.

"Is…something wrong with your tea?"

"It is _tea_. I detest the stuff." He sighs heavily. "But this morning, I need to shake the dreams from my mind. I may also need a favor."

"Oh," I breathe. "You just have to ask."

He stands. His shoulders slump forward, his head angled downward. "One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery." He looks at me, the sadness in his eyes making his whole face droop. "I heard the cry for help as I slept."

I've never seen him like this before. He's practically shaking, ready to burst at the seams. It makes my whole body ache. "I'd be happy to help. What did these mages use to capture your friend? Blood magic?"

"A summoning circle, I would imagine," he growls.

A summoning circle? I hesitate. "Which…friend?"

"Wisdom."

The word brings back memories of his words, washing over me as we traveled to and from the Hinterlands. My body starts to shake. No…

"Unlike the spirits clamoring to enter our world through the rifts, it was dwelling quite happily in the Fade. It was summoned against its will, and wants my help to gain its freedom and return to the Fade."

"Oh, no," I whisper.

Shock mingles with the fear in his eyes. "You…understand?"

"Yes… You've told me much of Wisdom. Do you not remember?"

"I—" he stops short. "No, of course I do. I just…you always surprise me."

"Do you have any idea what the mages want with Wisdom?"

"No. It knows a great deal of lore and history, but a mage could learn that simply by speaking to it in the Fade. It is possible they seek information it does not wish to give and…intend to torture it." His shoulders sag even more with the last words.

"Let's go."

The relief on his face completely takes over his features. "Thank you. I got a sense of my friend's location before I awoke. I will mark it on our map."

* * *

**This mission, the first time I did it, surprised me sooo much. Mainly because Solas is so calm and collected and here he is, clearly losing it. Am I the only one?**


	23. Wisdom and Pride

23 - Wisdom and Pride

It doesn't take us long to set out. I choose to ask Blackwall and Cole to come. They're the least likely to ask questions. I ask Varric to update everyone on where we're going and to keep an eye on things in Skyhold for me. He agrees without question. Then we set out, throwing ourselves onto some horses and taking off into the daylight.

We manage to make the six day trip to the Exalted Plains in four. We push our horses harder than we should, but the desperation on Solas's face gives all of us good reason to move as fast as we can.

The Exalted Plains is an area I haven't yet gotten to explore myself. It's a land that is seeped in Elvhen lore and culture, things that I push to the back of my mind as we near it. It's hard to ignore it. Ignore the magics singing to me from the ground. Ignore the scared and burned land that was once our people's home. But the look on Solas's face, the sadness glowing forth so prominently, helps.

Luckily, some of the Inquisition's scouts had already set up a small camp there and we're able to drop off our horses and continue on foot.

"Thank you for this, lethallan," Solas says. "We are not far from where my friend was summoned."

Cole shivers. "Everything here is blurry. It wants to forget, but now the rocks are solid."

We follow the path for a few moments longer. Up ahead, I spot something crumpled on the ground in a pool of blood.

"One of the mages," Solas says. "Killed by arrows, it would seem."

"Bandits, most likely," Blackwall adds.

We find more bodies farther up the path. They're burned beyond recognition.

"These aren't mages," Solas mutters. "The bodies are burned, and these claw marks…" I watch his eyes widen. He shakes his head frantically. "No. No, no, no."

My heart aches at the panic in his voice.

He takes the lead, sprinting ahead of us. We barely keep up.

Something large looms over a small group of mages up ahead. I recognize it almost immediately, considering we had battled one before. My body instantly goes numb.

A pride demon.

"My friend," Solas gasps, his feet coming to a complete stop in his shock. He then growls, throwing his arms down as he turns to me.

"They've…turned it into a demon," I whisper.

I can see he's barely holding himself together. His shoulders shake, his hands clenched into fists. "Yes."

"But, it was a spirit of Wisdom, not a fighter."

His voice trembles, his eyes narrowed and hard. "A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose."

"So they summoned it for something so opposed to its own nature that it was corrupted." I swallow, my mouth dry. "Fighting?"

Solas doesn't get the chance to answer. One of the mages appears then, approaching us timidly. I feel my blood begin to boil, my face flushing with the heat.

"Let us ask them!" Solas shouts.

"A mage!" the man says as he walks up. He wears Circle mage robes, although they are stained and covered in grime. His dark hair is matted to his forehead. "You're not with the bandits? Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We've been fighting that demon…"

"You _summoned_ that demon!" Solas screams, his face turning red. "Except that it was a spirit of Wisdom at the time! You made it kill! You twisted it against its purpose!"

The rage in Solas's voice makes me hesitate and step away from him. I've never seen him so unhinged before. Never thought him capable of such. It makes my own blood boil.

The mage takes a step back. "I…I…I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can…"

Solas dashes up to the man, grabbing him by his collar. "We're not here to help _you_."

"Word of advice?" I say, my voice shaking with rage. "I'd hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here."

"Listen to me!" the mage says, squirming out of Solas's grasp. "I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle—"

"Shut. Up." Solas's hands spark with mana. "You summoned it to protect you from the bandits."

"I—yes," the mage whispers.

"You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. _That_ is when it turned." He turns toward me. "The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon."

"What?" The mage takes a step back. "The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!"

"Inquisitor, please!" Solas's voice rings with desperation.

Why does he doubt me so? "Of course," I say.

He sighs in relief, closing his eyes for a moment. "Thank you."

The ground rumbles as the demon roars, pounding its chest.

"We must hurry!" Solas yells.

I look back at Blackwall and Cole. "Destroy only the pillars. Do _not_ touch the demon."

They both nod.

We sprint forward. Blackwall charges toward the demon, keeping it distracted while the three of us work to bring down the summoning pillars. The mages stay out of our way as we move, our rage too much for them to comprehend. Cole dashes in and out of the battle, slashing through the pillars one at a time. Solas and I move together, combining our mana to bring them down as quickly as we can. Blackwall stays in the middle with the demon, running in circles while keeping it's attention away from us.

Finally, the last pillar breaks and shatters into ash. I look toward where the demon had once been rampaging, instead see a small woman standing there, body glowing with an otherworldly light. I hesitate, let Solas take the lead toward it.

He bends down. The words he speaks to it are elvish.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"I'm not," it says, its voice floating through the air like waves. "I'm happy. I'm me again." Its eyes and mouth both turn downward. "You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death."

My feel my heart seize. We hadn't made it in time. It was dying. I swallow, reach down to touch Solas's shoulder.

He sighs, looks away from it with his eyes closed. He stays there for a brief moment. Then he looks back at it, his eyes dark and brimming with moisture. "As you say."

He lifts his hands into the air, as if to caress its face, so much like a woman's. He slowly pulls them inward, toward himself. As he does, Wisdom fades away, floating into the wind like ash.

"Dareth Shiral," he sobs.

I drop down next to him. "I heard what it said. It was right. You did help it."

He doesn't look at me. "And now…I must endure."

"Let me know if I can help."

A sad smile spreads over his face before he stands. "You already have." It takes a moment for his smile to fade, to be replaced with the same hardness of before. "All that remains now is them."

The mages have approached us.

"Thank you," the mage from before says. "We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected."

Solas's rage is magnificent. A shadow crosses over his face as he points at them, looming toward them with his hands flaming. "You tortured and killed my friend."

"We didn't know it was just a spirit! The book said it could help us!"

I turn my head, closing my eyes as Solas bares down on them. I hear their screams, feel the mana around us surge. Tears stream down my face and I quickly wipe them away before Blackwall or Cole can see.

The cries of pain finally stop. I turn, see Solas standing above their flaming and burned bodies.

"Damn them all," he moans, his voice weak. He doesn't turn back toward us. Just continues to watch their bodies be devoured by the heat. "I need some time alone." His voice quavers. "I will meet you back at Skyhold."

Then he's gone, taking my heart with him.

The trip back is subdued. Blackwall and I don't speak, Cole voicing our emotions like some strange narrator. We let him speak, let him babble.

"We didn't make it in time," Cole mutters. "Why did they have to kill his friend? Why did it have to die?" He looks at me, his pale eyes unfocused. "You never met it, yet you mourn like it was your friend. Why?"

"Solas spoke much of it. He…cared for it, deeply. No living creature deserves a fate like that. Spirit or not."

"I…thank you," he whispers.

He goes back to muttering to himself. It's oddly comforting.

* * *

Once back in Skyhold, I spend most of my spare time watching the road, waiting for Solas's dark figure to come sauntering back through the gates. Day after day I watch, my body becoming more and more tense as the time passes. I fidget restlessly, do not sleep well. Finally, after a little over a week, I see a lone man walking up the road.

Relief floods my veins as I walk down the steps nearest the gates. Solas's eyes still hold sadness. But I can already see hints of his mask covering it, hiding it away where no one can see how he suffers.

"Inquisitor," he says, nodding his head.

"How are you?"

His brows furrow, that shadow darkening his face again. "It hurts. It always does, but I will survive."

"You…came back."

"Were you not expecting me to?"

"Part of me expected you not to."

He closes his eyes, sighing. "You were a true friend. You did everything you could to help. I could hardly abandon you."

I push away the fluttering of my chest, knowing now is not the time for me to feel like this. "Where did you go?"

"I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be." He takes a deep breath. "It's empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there."

"What…happens when a spirit dies?"

"It isn't the same as for mortals. The energy of spirits returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again."

"You're saying Wisdom might come back?" I learn something from him almost every time we speak.

The corners of his mouth turn downward. "No, not really. A spirit's natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely…not remember me." I watch his throat constrict as he swallows. "It would not be the friend I knew."

I step toward him. "The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone."

"It's…" he bows his head. "It's been so long since I could trust someone."

"I know."

His smile is small, muted. "I'll work on it. And thank you."


	24. Ar Lath Ma, Vhenan

**Hello everyone! Just a quick notice. Once I reach chapter 30, I'm going to start posting once a week versus twice a week. I'm starting to catch up to where I'm currently at in my writing and I want to make sure I have plenty of time to edit chapters before I post. **

**What day of the week would you prefer to have a chapter posted? Fridays? Middle of the week somewhere? Weekends? Please leave a review and let me know so I can plan ahead for all of you guys :)**

* * *

24 - Ar Lath Ma, Vhenan

I give Solas his space to grieve as the next few days pass. It's harder than it should be for me to walk past his rotunda and not peek inside, but somehow I manage.

The castle starts to look less and less like a fortress long abandoned to the elements and more like a stronghold brimming with life and energy. People continue to pour in. Ordinarily, I would've welcomed how many people seem to support this Inquisition—and by extension, me. But, the longer it goes on, the more I want nothing but to disappear for a few days. Even weeks.

I miss camping in the wilderness. I miss staring at the stars in the dead of night. I miss the sounds of my clan moving through the trees, huddling around the campfire to tell stories.

One of the days I'm wandering the courtyards, longing to find some solace, I find Cole sitting on the very edge of a wall overlooking the lower courtyard. He's rocking, tapping his feet on the wall below him, humming quietly.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

He doesn't answer for a moment. Then he shakes his head. "Listening."

I stand next to him, look down at the people moving below. It seems as if he's staring at one of the nurses.

"Eyes rough, jangling armor hurts my ears, back aching, fingers too clumsy for knots… Wind cool like Aunt Eloise's pond. Lips scalded as I sip, warmth blossoms, first kiss in the barn, what was his name?"

The woman kneels next to someone laying on the ground, speaking with him for a moment. Then a Chantry sister approaches her.

"Tin jangle as the blood spills. Pierre's wrapped body on the wagon to the Chantry. Five more minutes. My fault."

It's strange to watch him do this. The emotions are so thick in his eyes despite the calmness of his voice. "Can you listen to anyone's mind like you did hers?"

"No. They have to need me. Pain, fear, sadness, guilt, anger, hurt. Things I can fix."

I stare down at her, taking in her sunken eyes and slumped shoulders. "Can you do something for her?"

"Yes," he sighs.

When I look up at him, he's gone.

I jump, glance around me. I then look back down, where the servant woman paces.

"It's okay." His voice is just strong enough I hear it drift to me. "Nothing you did mattered."

I quickly make my way down the stairs near me, not letting my eyes leave him.

The woman starts, looks over her shoulder. "What? Who are you?"

Cole walks up to her. "They lie there, and sometimes they die, just like Pierre. You can't save them."

By then I've made my way down. She's shaking her head. "I don't…I don't know who you are…"

Cole shakes his head. "Wait…that didn't work. Let me try again. You'll forget me in a minute."

What does he mean, it didn't work? "What're you going to do?" I whisper.

"Make her forget me. Then do it again, the right way."

I step back and watch, curious.

"You can't save all of them," Cole says.

"What?" the woman says. Her eyes look unfocus, clouded with confusion.

"Like Pierre getting sick after you snuck out to Aunt Eloise's pond… You want it to be your fault, so there's a reason and it's not so frightening. But there is no reason. Pierre just got sick. The soldier was never going to live. It wasn't your fault."

He reaches out for her. A light bursts from her chest.

Instantly, the grief and worry on her face fade. Her lips part into a smile and she walks away.

Cole sighs. "Better."

"So she doesn't blame herself anymore?"

"Not as much. It was bouncing around inside her, closing up into a ball of wrong. Now it's open. She'll get it out."

"Well done," I whisper.

He turns to me. "Thank you for letting me help her. It's not how a person would do it… But it helped. That's what matters."

Then he's gone.

My heart feels lighter, having watched this. Was this was it was like? Keeping company with spirits?

I sigh deeply, closing my eyes and, finally, finding my solace. When I open them again, I cannot remember why.

* * *

A knock on my bedroom door the next night makes me jump. I quickly get up, throw on my robe before descending my stairs.

I yank open the door, ready to yell at Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, whoever it is standing on the other side, to leave it till morning.

"Inquisitor?"

"Solas?" My voice comes out high. I quickly clear my throat.

"I was…" He hesitates and then smiles. "Do you have a moment?"

"Um…sure." I step back, let him walk in. My heart hammers against my ribs as I follow him back up the stairs and to the balcony. I pull my robe tighter around me against the cold.

He reaches the railing, turns to face me as he leans against it. "What were you like…before the Anchor?"

I frown, look down at my hand. What does he mean, _before_ it?

"Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your…spirit?"

I hesitate. "If it had, do you really think I'd have noticed?"

His mouth twitches. "No. That's an excellent point."

"But, I don't believe it has."

"Ah." He looks away from me, his eyes sad. The silence between us is deep, pressing firmly to my ears.

"Why do you ask?"

He still averts my gaze. "You show a wisdom I have not seen since…" He hesitates. I can see something brewing in his eyes that makes me pause. But then it's gone. "Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade." His eyes widen. "You are not what I expected."

I suppress a smile. "Sorry to disappoint."

"It's not disappointing, it's…" He sighs, shaking his head. The conflict and confusion in his face is so foreign to me. "Most people are predictable."

I can feel that flush spreading up my neck again.

"You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours… Have I misjudged them?" His eyes show that conflict again, hidden deep inside.

I inhale, trying to calm the shaking of my hands. I grip my robe tighter to help. "The Dalish didn't make me like this. The decisions were mine."

He inclines his head. "Yes. You are wise to give yourself that due. Although the Dalish, in their fashion, may still have guided you." He hesitates. "Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world." He pauses. "But not you."

I swallow. "What is this about, Solas?" My voice is so much calmer than I feel.

That conflict is back again, burning in his eyes. "It means I have not forgotten the kiss."

I breathe out, feeling my body tremble. A spark of courage bursts in my chest and I grasp at it, taking a step toward him. His steps mirror mine, though with less conviction.

"Good," I whisper.

He's up against the railing now, no longer able to step away. He holds his chin high as I move closer.

We're almost nose-to-nose. My heart is hammering, my blood rushing in my ears. I cross my arms behind my back, keeping myself just far enough away that we don't touch, but just barely.

His eyes burn into mine. I watch the emotions play across them: fear, desire, doubt. He blinks, lightly shaking his head. He takes a step to the side, slips past me.

It's like lead has been injected into my heart, being pumped throughout my body and making me heavy and weak. He's saying no? Leaving?

The last remnants of that courage takes hold, grasping at what little stands before me. I reach out, grab his arm, stop him from leaving.

"Don't go," I whisper.

He doesn't pull away. Just stands there, my fingers grasping his sleeve. His chest is moving fast, pulsing harder than even mine. "It would be kinder in the long run," he says, shaking his head again, still not looking at me. "But…" He tilts his head toward me. "Losing you would…"

He turns, using my hand attached to his sleeve to pull himself toward me. In one deliciously sweet movement, his arms are around me, his lips pressed hard to mine. Closer he moves to me, hands around my waist, lips parting.

We lose ourselves, just for that moment. Nothing else exists. Not the castle walls. Not the mountains in the distance. Not the cold air, which is not the reason I shiver in his arms. In that moment, we are everything.

He pulls away. There is no conflict in his gaze then. I see it all and it makes my heart soar.

"Ar lath ma, **(1)** vhenan, **(2****)"** he whispers.

Oh, my aching heart. How those words make my body light as air. Make my head swim. How could someone like him love someone like me? I am not worthy of this.

He kisses me one more time, caressing my cheek with his hand. Then he breaks away, his feet carrying him down and out of my room, leaving me on the balcony to think about everything.

* * *

Was it all a dream?

It's a thought I can't quite keep from my mind by the time I wake the next morning. I touch my lips, close my eyes as I try to remember every last detail.

_Ar lath ma, vhenan._

My heart beats uncontrollably. I was his _vhenan_. His _heart_. I was someone's heart.

I take a moment to giggle like a little girl before composing myself and sitting up. I then take a deep, aching breath, letting the air wash through me.

"That was adorable."

I squeal, grabbing my quilt and pulling it up tight to my chest as I look toward the door leading out to the balcony.

Solas is standing there, leaning against the wall with a small grin on his face.

"What're you doing in here?!" I say, voice much too high.

He laughs. "_You_ walk through my study all the time unannounced. I figured it was time I return the favor."

The flush doesn't bother to spread up my neck, skipping straight to my cheeks and making my face burn. "Well, shit. That's embarrassing."

He laughs again, pushing away from the wall to walk across the room. My heart—poor thing feels like it's going to give out soon—hammers as he sits on my bed at my feet. "You spend too much time with Varric."

"Jealous?"

He inclines his head. "Always."

I hesitate before shifting forward, leaning so my face hovers just next to his. I watch his eyes wander down to my lips before he smiles. I take that and grab hold, closing the gap until our lips meet.

He doesn't kiss me in the hungry way he had last night, but it still makes me light headed. I'm the one to pull away first this time. I stare at him, at his smug smile that makes my heart pound, letting my brows furrow together in thought. I must be staring at him hard enough to get his attention, because he suddenly raises his eyebrows.

"Does something trouble you, vhenan?"

The word makes me tremble but I ignore it, shaking my head. "This just…was not what I was expecting to happen when I first met you."

He cocks his head, twisting his neck slightly as his brows lower and his eyes widen. He then laughs. "No, I daresay it was not."

"You were just the smallest bit annoying, to be honest."

His laugh does not falter. "Am I not still?"

"Of course. But I love it."

He reaches out, pulls my face toward his. He kisses me deeply and I let myself get lost for that moment.

He sighs. "I could kiss you for all eternity," he whispers.

My breath is shaky as I exhale. "Can you…give me a moment?"

"Of course. May I inquire what for?"

"I…" My cheeks burn again. "I was planning on calling for a bath this morning." I _desperately_ need it.

He laughs. "Of course. We don't want our Inquisitor smelling like a barn, do we?"

I scowl at him.

"Still cynical, I see." He grins. "I shall call for someone to draw a bath, and give you privacy." He leans forward, brushes his lips across my forehead before standing. I wait for my door to close before throwing myself out of bed.

Like he had promised, someone arrives not long after to ready my bath water. I soak for much too long, my mind too preoccupied to concentrate.

* * *

"Vhenan," Solas sighs deeply as I walk into his rotunda. He takes my face in his hands, kisses the top of my forehead.

"I'm sorry I didn't take you with us," I whisper. "But this was Dorian's time to have me. I couldn't take away from that."

"How did you fair?"

My mouth turns downward. "Not quite how we thought."

He pulls me toward his desk. I follow without hesitation, glad to finally have him so close after what seems an eternity apart. I push some of his things out of the way before I sit down on the desk.

"Tell me, vhenan," he says, his hand resting on my knee.

I sigh. When I speak, I keep my voice as low as possible so that those above cannot hear. "Honestly, it was a bit of a disaster. The 'family retainer' that wanted to meet him in Redcliffe was actually his father. Apparently, the reason Dorian estranged himself from his family was because they did not approve that he prefers the company of men."

"Not surprising."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Do _you_ disapprove?"

His eyes widen. "Of course not. Love is love. But I can see where the issue arose. Tevinter does pride itself on producing strong mages."

I nod. "Yes. After his father found out, he plotted to use blood magic on him… So Dorian ran."

"What was the purpose of this meeting, then?"

"I…I guess to apologize to him. I'm not sure. Once I heard the bit about the blood magic, I told Dorian we should leave. We did, but not before Dorian had a quick word with him while I waited outside." I sigh. "I'm worried about him. He's been too quiet ever since. Hardly spoke a word on the way back."

Solas reaches for me, pulls me down into his lap. I let my heart flutter, soothing me even if just for a moment.

"Your spirit is beautiful, vhenan. I love how deeply you care, even for those most would see as their enemy."

"He's my friend."

"Of course."

I sigh, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I missed you."

He closes his eyes, resting his face into my palm. He turns his head, presses his lips into my hand. When he opens his eyes again, the shadow that crosses his face makes my cheeks burn and body tremble.

"Go, vhenan. Comfort your friend. I shall be here. We have the rest of the day for me to show you just how much I missed your presence."

Air hisses through my teeth. This makes him chuckle.

"Go. I'll be here."

I find Dorian up in the library, in his usual spot, looking out the window. He barely inclines his head toward me when I walk up behind him.

"He says we're alike. Too much pride. Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him."

"He tried to change you?" I ask, sitting down next to him.

"Out of desperation. I wouldn't put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away." He sighs. "Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me…acceptable. I found out. I left."

"Can blood magic actually do that?"

"Maybe. It could also have left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part of me has always hoped he didn't really want to go through with it. If he had… I can't even imagine the person I would be now." He looks at me, his eyes dark. It makes my heart ache. "I wouldn't like that Dorian."

I lower my voice. "Are you all right?"

"No. Not really." He finally pushes himself away from the window. "Thank you for bringing me out there. It wasn't what I expected, but…it's something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display."

"I think you're very brave," I say honestly.

"Brave?"

"It's not easy to abandon tradition and walk down your own path."

The sadness in his gaze lifts, his mouth curling into a smile. "And you would know that, wouldn't you?"

I nod. "I guess I would."

He sighs, the old Dorian bursting forth with a flourish. "At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor. It's been that sort of day. Join me, if you've a mind."

I smile. "Lead the way."

* * *

**1 - Ar lath ma - elvish for I love you**

**2 - vhenan/ma vhenan - elvish for "heart/my heart;" a term of ****endearment, such as "my love"**


	25. Flower

**Lol just a reminder, this is _not_ a smutty fic. For those waiting for the NSFW scenes XD Not saying it isn't going to happen, but not in the way I think you guys are waiting for. This is FFN after all. They only allow so much.**

* * *

25 - Flower

By the time I'm done with Dorian, I've completely forgotten that I was supposed to meet Solas. It's only when I wake the next morning that I suddenly remember. My head pounds as I sit up in my bed, reminding me of how much I had drank with Dorian. My heart sinks low into my stomach and I dress quickly, heading downstairs and to his rotunda.

I hear hushed yet angry voices coming from behind his door. I pause for a brief moment outside. For the first time, I reach up and knock on the door.

The voices go quiet.

"Come in, vhenan."

I open the door slowly, peeking around it before walking through.

Cole is with him. Both of them look upset.

"Should I come back?" I ask.

Solas sighs, rubbing his forehead. "No. Do not worry. This is not a problem for you."

"What happened?"

"Vivienne played a trick on Solas," Cole breathes. "He didn't like it."

"What?" I ask, voice higher than I intend. "What did she do?"

Solas reaches for something on his desk. "She placed _this_ next to my bed as I slept."

He's holding a flower in his hand. I recognize it almost instantly.

"She doesn't like that he visits the Fade," Cole mutters.

"I thought those were rare," I say, nodding at the flower.

Both of them go still. Solas waves the flower in the air. "Do you know…?"

Cole looks at him, his head bowed. "She doesn't know what it's for."

My heart starts to pound along with my head. "What do you mean?" I ask. "Why was her placing that flower at your bedside such a bad…?" My words fade.

"What was Vivienne doing next to his bed?" Cole whispers.

I glare at him. "Hey, I didn't ask for your help!"

Solas laughs, the sound a bit patronizing. "_That_ is what you dwell on?"

My brows furrow. "I'm sorry. It was just…"

He holds up his hand, stopping me. His face then straightens as his eyes darken. "But…how do you know of this flower?"

Confusion clouds my mind. "My Keeper grew them. I… My Keeper always made sure to have some for me before I slept."

A look crosses Solas's features. For a moment, he looks as if he's just going to brush it off, hide the flower and never speak of it again. But Cole is there, voicing thoughts that shouldn't be heard.

"She doesn't know? Why doesn't she know? Why did her Keeper—" Cole gasps.

"I'm sorry, Cole. But you must leave us."

Cole looks at Solas, his eyes wide. "All right."

He's gone.

"Solas," I whisper, staring at his desk where the flower lay. "You're starting to scare me. What's going on?"

"Are…are you _sure_ your Keeper would place this near you as you slept?"

"Yes." I walk up to him, look at the flower up close just to make sure. But I knew the moment he held it up what it was. I had seen it too many times, smelled its fragrance under my nose for years.

I watch the anger build in his face, his eyebrows growing together as his lips snarl. He grabs the flower, his hands sparking, and tosses it across the room, hissing "Fenedhis" under his breath. He walks over to his desk, keeps his back to me.

"S-solas?" I reach out tentatively, touch his arm. This makes him jump.

"I-I am sorry, vhenan. I do not mean for you to see me like this."

Slowly, I let my hand drop down, twist my fingers around his. "It's just…a flower," I say, suddenly unsure.

He sighs heavily before turning around to sit on his desk. The pain on his face is almost as intense as it had been after Wisdom's death. It makes my breath catch in my throat.

"It…_is_ just a flower, right?" I whisper.

He lifts our entwined hands, pulls me closer. "No. It is not."

I work desperately to swallow the lump in my throat. "Then, what—"

"We spoke of herbs that can be used to help one enter the Fade. Do you remember?"

"I—yes," I breathe.

He hesitates. "And the ones that can block access to the Fade?"

My heart is pounding fast again. My eyes flit to where the flower now lays on the ground, charred after Solas's rage. "Yes," I whisper even quieter.

He says nothing.

It hits me. My stomach falls. "Oh."

He touches my face with his free hand, pulls it so I look into his eyes. They're brimming with sadness. "If your Keeper has… Your Keeper has been purposely blocking your access to the Fade."

I can feel my body starting to sag. "Why?"

"I cannot claim to understand why, nor can I even begin to speculate."

I clear my throat, grasping onto what little hope I can. "Is… Why is that such a bad thing?"

His fingers trace my cheek. "Oh, vhenan. You know so little when it comes to the Fade, you don't even…" He straightens his shoulders. "Cutting off your access to the Fade would stunt your growth as a mage. Without access to the Fade, a mage cannot cast. They cannot grow. By putting this herb near where you slept, she robbed you of that connection."

I shake my head. "But, I _could_ do magic. I _can_ do magic."

"But your abilities have grown exponentially since you left your clan. I have witnessed it. I watched your wards gain strength, watched you come into your own against those who stood against you. Do you not remember how you struggled to fight the Templars? Yet, when they invaded Haven, you brought them down without issue."

I gulp. Feel my body start to go numb.

Solas reaches for me, steadying me on my feet. "Ir abelas, vhenan."

I shake my head. "But…but why? Why would she do that?"

I can tell it takes him a lot of restraint not to start cursing her and every Dalish in existence. His eyes war with it. But he sighs, rubs his forehead before looking at me again. "I cannot claim to understand why, nor would I want to. Stealing this from you…"

The dread in my heart shakes me. Questions erupt into my brain. Why had she done this to me? Why was she so determined to keep me away from the Fade? My eyes burn. I blink, look at Solas.

The sadness in his eyes makes my body ache more than my sadness. I push away the betrayal I feel, store it in the back of my mind for another time. I run my hand across his smooth head, which seems to pull him back.

"Ah. I am sorry. I shouldn't dwell on this," he says. He reaches up, grabs my hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back last night."

"Your friend needed your comfort more than I." He then wraps his arms around my waist. "If I am not mistaken, you are here now."

I laugh. "Yes. I am."

His lips press to mine. I let my arms slide up and over his shoulders, hold him tight. The rhythm of his lips against mine is not unlike his words, holding me captive. His mouth moves, brushing along my cheek, following the slope of my jaw. I sigh deeply, close my eyes.

"Oh, get a room, why don't you."

I jump. Solas moans, throwing his head back to look up. He glares up at Dorian, who merely fiddles with his mustache and raises his eyebrows. I sigh, touch my forehead to Solas's. He shakes his head, touches my cheek briefly before pulling back.

"I am sorry, vhenan. I _am _distracting you from your duties."

"They can handle things without me for a little while."

He smiles. "Have you heard from Varric's friend? The Champion?"

"I—" I pause. "No, actually. I thought she would have contacted us by now."

"She was going to Crestwood, correct?"

I nod.

"Maybe you should seek out Varric and ask."

I purse my lips. "Can't I just take a few moments to relax before I go be the Inquisitor?"

He watches me for a moment, eyes roaming over my features. He finally grins. "I suppose you may spare a _few _moments."

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Good."

Varric is where he always is: in the great hall by the fireplace. I walk up to him and he seems to know exactly what I'm about to ask.

"I haven't heard from her, Freckles."

"Do you think they're in trouble? It's been a lot longer than I thought it would be."

He shrugs. "I'm honestly not too worried. She had to be fairly…discreet on her way here from Kirkwall, let alone from here to Crestwood. Most likely, she's had to take it slow to keep people from recognizing her."

"You aren't worried? At all?"

He hesitates. "Well, a bit. But she can take care of herself. If _something _were to happen to her, we'd hear about it."

I sigh. "I guess you're right. Let me know right away if you hear anything."

"Of course. I wouldn't dare keep anything else secret. Otherwise Cassandra might actually try to kill me next time."

* * *

By the time I leave my quarters the next morning, the sun is high in the sky. I walk into the great hall and Josephine almost immediately converges on me.

"I just received word that three mage specialists have arrived in the hold, Your Worship."

"Specialists?"

"Yes. Leliana sent for them to come so you may be trained."

I frown. "What do you mean by 'trained,' exactly?"

She sighs. "I suggest you go find them yourself and ask that question. They are all in the courtyard, waiting for your decision."

It isn't hard to find them, to be honest. All three of them carry themselves with pride, wearing robes and armor that is impeccably clean.

One is a woman who looks to have been a Circle mage at some point. She is forgetful, repeating the same sentence over and over. But she claims herself to be a master of the rifts and the magic they wield. She offers to teach me of the rifts, how to use them to stop death and bring life.

Another is a man who comes from Nevarra. A Mortalitasi: master of the dead. The term is one I've heard while speaking to Cassandra. One of her uncles, if I remember correctly, was a Mortalitasi. I almost immediately decide against this one. I have no interest in necromancy. To me, calling spirits forth through the Veil to inhabit the bodies of the dead feels no different than forcing Wisdom to fight the bandits.

The last is a elven woman who speaks to me with utmost authority. She does not call me Inquisitor, instead referring to me as a recruit who must learn to lead. She calls herself Knight-Enchanter: a mage who wields magical weapons of battle.

I tell each of them in turn that I cannot commit to their field of study just yet. I then walk away, my mind reeling.

I hadn't realized that you could have a focus—a specialty—in magic. Again, I feel a stab of anger and annoyance that my Keeper had kept so much from me. Why? Why had she left so much in the dark?

Before I decide, I go to each of my friends in turn, ask for their advice. Varric isn't much help, not offering any input except to say that he'll follow me no matter which magic I choose. Sera I skip altogether: she's already put off by magic as a whole and would likely just change the subject. Blackwall and Cassandra both seem more keen on me following the ways of the Knight-Enchanter, calling it "noble" and "worthy of a leader." Iron Bull, to my great surprise, actually says he likes the idea of bringing back the dead to have them fight for us.

"Make the bastards pay back what they tried to take from us," is what he says. "They'd be pissing in their graves if they saw that we made their bodies fight for their enemies."

As it turns out, Vivienne is a Knight-Enchanter herself. It explains a lot, I can't help but think. She holds herself like one who has commanded many.

Dorian is a necromancer and tries his best to sway me in his direction.

"It's not just bringing back the dead and making them fight," he says. "It's utilizing the power the spirits willingly give to us and putting it to good use. Plus, it helps that it makes our enemies fear us even more."

The last person I go to is Solas, mainly because I know once I go to him, I won't want to leave.

"Vhenan," he says when I walk into his study.

"Which class should I specialize in?"

He frowns at me for a moment. His eyes then soften as he smiles. "Ah. I had forgotten that our spymaster had sent for instructors for you."

"Which one do you think I should go for?"

He wiggles one of his fingers at me, motioning me to come closer. I take a deep breath, embrace the fluttering of my heart as I step toward him. He grabs my hand, pulls me down so I sit in his lap.

He does not speak for a long few minutes. He merely stares at me, lets his fingers trace the lines of my face, brush the my hair from my eyes. It makes my body burn, hotter and hotter until I tremble.

He seems to notice then, removing his hand from my face to laugh under his breath. "Who knew I could make you want so badly by nothing more than placing my hands upon your skin."

"Do I not affect you so?" I ask, voice low with shame.

"Hm." He grins, pulling my face toward his, slow and calculating. He does not kiss me. Instead, his finger lingers across my lips, making me tremble even more. He finally laughs. "That is not what you came here to discuss."

"_You _are the one who distracted me."

He sighs, leaning back. "Of course. And I apologize."

I take a deep breath, push away the burning heat in my body.

"Now, onto what you came here for. Which class calls to you the most?"

It's harder than I thought to push away the fantasies in my mind and concentrate on his words. "I…I'm not sure."

He smiles. "Tell me about each, and I shall try to help you decide."

* * *

I end up choosing the Knight-Enchanter. Something about it calls to me. Is it the idea that it'll help me learn to be the leader these people need? The origins in elven culture? Or is it the way Solas says Dirth'ena Enasalin—knowledge that led to victory? I cannot decide which sways me more.

I spend the next few days working with Commander Helaine. She helps me craft what becomes my spiritual blade, then teaches me how to call my magic into the sword to create a blade that cuts deep into my enemies. She teaches me how to correctly wield it, and for this I'm grateful I've watched Cassandra swing her blade so many times.

Finally, after days of training, Commander Helaine looks at me.

"You are recruit no more," she says, bowing her head.

I set my shoulders back in pride. "Thank you. I hope this will make me worthy of being the leader these people need."


	26. Memories

26 - Memories

I wake up in a cold sweat that night, my chest heaving. I cover my mouth, stifle the sob curling its way up my throat.

The dreams had been so vivid. I can still feel the heat on my skin where the fire had burned.

I sit there for I do not know how long, my body trembling. It's only when I hear the sound of soft footfalls on my steps that I emerge out of my trance.

"Vhenan?"

I wipe my face, hiding the tears on my cheeks. "Solas. I did not hear you."

My bed sinks as he sits by my feet. His hands pull mine away from my face.

"I heard your cries as I slept. What is wrong?"

"I—" I gulp, trying hard to settle my emotions. I can feel myself failing, feel the tears start to build in my eyes once again. I quickly cover my face, burying it between my knees so my sob is muffled.

I don't realize he's moved until I feel his arm wrap around me, pulling me toward where he now lay next to me.

"Oh, vhenan," he breathes, voice heavy.

"They were — so — real," I sob.

His lips brush my forehead, fingers tracing small circles in my back. "Hush. I am here."

He holds me until my body stops trembling with my cries, humming stories in my ear in-between the small kisses he leaves on the top of my head. At some point, he pulls my blankets up and over us to keep out the cold seeping through the windows and walls.

It takes longer than it should for me to calm down enough to realize that he's in my bed with me in his arms. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, close my eyes as I take a deep and calming breath.

I feel when he starts to tense, starts to push me away so he can leave. I hold him tighter, refuse to let him go.

"Please, stay," I croak. "We don't have to do anything. Please. Just stay. Please."

He freezes in my arms. His chest moves just the slightest bit faster, pulsing beneath my fingers. I keep my eyes closed tight, let him war with himself without my gaze on his face.

Finally, I feel him nod. "If…that's what you wish."

"It is."

He shifts, sliding back to where he had been before. I ignore my pounding heart as his arm slips around me, fingers lingering just seconds too long on my side before pulling me closer. His hand then wanders to my hair, lightly brushing through it down to where it ends at my waist.

"Tell me of your dreams," he says, his voice oddly thick.

I know by the tension in his shoulders that this is almost too much for him. He's trying so hard to remain cool and collected and the thought makes my face burn.

I gulp, shake my head a bit too violently. "I don't…"

"I won't force you," he whispers. "But know that I am here."

I bite the inside of my lip, back away just enough so I can scoot up and lay my head on my pillow.

His eyes are dark, heavy with sadness but with traces of something that makes my stomach pull. Slowly, I inch forward so my nose touches his and then go still, letting my eyes flutter closed as my blood pounds in my ears.

His breath washes over my face as he sighs. "Why must you tempt me so?"

I grin, keeping my eyes closed, but say nothing.

"You are quite enjoying this."

"Maybe," I say.

His hand stops running through my hair. I go still as his fingers start to walk up my side. I take a sharp breath when they slip underneath my shirt, trailing up just a couple more inches before stopping.

The breath that seeps from my mouth is shaky.

He chuckles. "I cannot lie. I'm quite enjoying this as well."

"You're horrible," I whisper.

He's smiling when I open my eyes. "Why is that?"

"Because you tease me so."

"I do no such thing!"

My scowl makes him laugh.

"You were the one who asked me to stay."

"I—yes. I did."

The laughter in his eyes slowly fades as his brows furrow. "I must ask you something."

"Hm?"

He hesitates. "Why?"

I lean back a few inches. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why would a spirit as beautiful as yours choose a soul as dark as mine?"

This makes my heart stammer. I sit up. "Why do you think your soul is dark, Solas?"

A shadow crosses his face, but it's gone in moments. His eyes soften. "No reason you need to worry about."

I stare at him for a long moment. Finally, I sigh. I lay my head back down.

"Tell me what you dreamed. Please."

I knew he wouldn't let this go. I close my eyes, swallowing hard. "I… There was a demon. It made me kill."

I feel him sit up. "What?"

"I felt like I was young. The demon came. Took over me. I killed my whole clan."

His silence makes me look up. His eyes are blank, his mouth slightly open.

"Solas?"

He blinks, shakes his head. "Ah. I am sorry." He then leans down, presses his lips to my forehead. "You should sleep."

"Are you leaving?"

"For only a moment."

"But…"

He stands, crosses the room to my stairs. He then smiles at me. "Do not worry, vhenan. I shall return."

I groan when I hear the door at the bottom of the stairs shut. I throw myself back against my pillow, sigh deeply. I stare at the ceiling until my eyes become heavy. I then give up and roll over, curling up where he had lay. It's already gone cold.

I barely feel my bed move sometime later. I moan, turn over and try to make my tired eyes look into the room.

"Go back to sleep, vhenan. I am here."

* * *

There is an arm is wrapped around me the next morning, holding me close. I turn carefully, trying not to move too much.

Solas's face is calmer in sleep, more youthful. It's open, carefree. The lack of sadness tainting his features makes me realize, yet again, just how handsome he is in an unconventional way. Someone you could easily overlook until you took a moment to see, notice how sharp the angles of his face are. My throat tightens.

"Good morning, vhenan."

I jump. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were awake."

He smiles before opening his eyes. "Only for a moment."

"Where did you run off to last night?"

His smile falters. "Must you ask such difficult questions the moment you open your eyes?"

I scowl at him.

"I went to speak with Cole."

"Cole?" My voice squeaks.

"Yes. Being a spirit of Compassion, I assumed that he would…" He pauses. "This is not the best topic of discussion so early in the morning."

A spark of frustration burns behind my ribs. I sit up, crossing my arms over my knees. "Just get on with it."

He closes his eyes, the sadness always tainting his features boiling to the surface. "If you insist." He stands, stretches his arms above his head for a moment before clasping his hands behind his back. "I went to Cole to ask him if he had sensed any…repressed memories from you."

I start. "What? Why?"

"To dream of a demon taking possession of you… It is not something one gifted with magic normally envisions unless it has happened before."

"What did he say?"

He doesn't have to answer. His slumped shoulders and silence says everything.

My head starts to spin. My chest pulses, my breaths becoming more and more ragged. "You're saying — what I dreamed—"

"I told you this was not the best discussion," he whispers.

The bed sways beneath me. The air drawing into my lungs does not satisfy, my head spinning. My pulse pounds in my temples, my neck, my wrists.

I can't breathe. The room around me disappears and I'm back in my dream, watching my body fly at the clan around me, devouring. Blood. Flames. Laughter not my own.

I blink heavily, everything suddenly gone. My throat burns as though I had been screaming at the top of my lungs. I look over to my left, toward the hand on my arm.

Cole is staring at me.

"What happened?" I ask.

"The hurt was too much," he says. "I made it go away."

"I—" I grab my head, squeeze it. "When did you get here?"

"I heard your screams. They were loud."

I hesitate. "Why can't I remember what happened?"

"It seems as though your Keeper summoned a spirit of Compassion to make you forget," Solas says.

"Forget _what_ though? Was…was this not a dream?"

"The flower kept you from the truth," Cole whispers.

"The flower?" My brows furrow together. "Oh. The flower."

"I suspected something had happened after you told me your Keeper kept you from the Fade," Solas says, sitting on the bed next to me. "And then, after you told me about your dream…"

My shoulders sag into my chest.

"I'm an abomination," Cole whispers. He then shakes his head. "No. The demon is gone. It found someone else and went away."

"That's not possible!" I yell. "Once you become an abomination, death is the only cure!"

Solas scoffs at me. "You have been listening to Vivienne's nonsense far too much. You are no abomination. You were cured years ago."

"Cured? What do you mean 'cured?'"

"There is a ritual. Not many will resort to it since…it requires a sacrifice."

My throat tightens. "A _sacrifice_?"

"Yes."

I look at Cole. "What is he talking about?"

Cole shakes his head. "It's an old hurt, in you. It was removed. Hidden. An old Keeper died so it would go away. A new Keeper took you in after the thing was gone. They made everything go away."

I say nothing.

"It appears as if…" Solas's eyes darken. "You were a dreamer, as a child. It attracted a demon, who took possession of you. You were young, inexperienced, most likely tricked to accept due to your lack of knowledge. You…killed everyone in your clan, except for the Keeper. Clan Lavellan found you two. Your old Keeper offered to sacrifice himself so you could be cured."

"How…how do you know all this?" I whisper. My voice is weak, strained. My body numb.

"I journeyed the Fade. Called on spirits to answer my questions. I learned a spirit of Compassion had been summoned to clear your mind of the memories. That is when I went to Cole."

"Was it you?" I ask, voice low.

Cole shakes his head. "No. It was another."

I swallow. "What does this mean? Am I more susceptible to possession?"

Solas hesitates. "Usually, yes. Having once been possessed, your soul is now scarred and acts like a beacon to those demons looking for a host. I theorize it is why your Keeper used herbs to keep your mind away from the Fade, and why she taught you so little."

"There's a giant 'but' in there somewhere," I mutter.

He smiles at this. "Yes. You have not had your access to the Fade blocked in any way since leaving your clan. Your skills have grown and I have even journeyed with you into the Fade. Aside from the demons being pulled through the Veil at the rifts, I have not seen any sign that demons are more attracted to you than to any other mage."

"Meaning?"

"The memories are what made you hurt," Cole says. "Without those memories, your soul is whole. No longer damaged."

"My soul…my soul isn't damaged?"

"It appears not. It is truly miraculous," Solas says. The relief in his voice makes it soft.

Despite this, my mind still feels heavy. "But, either way, I _killed_ an entire clan. _My_ clan." I look back and forth between them. "I had no idea that Clan Lavellan wasn't the clan of my birth." I look down at my hands, at where the Anchor shines. I feel the sadness, the panic, wanting to take over me again. "My Keeper never even told me."

They say nothing.

The fear is starting to constrict in my chest. "If my soul is undamaged, why am I having dreams of these memories?"

"They're trying to come back. To break down the wall." Cole places a hand on my arm again. "I can make them go away. They won't come back."

I look over at Solas, everything passed my tears swimming into one swirl of color. "Will I even remember this conversation?"

"You can if you wish," he says. "It is your choice."

I look back at Cole, my chest heaving. "I don't want to have those dreams again. But I want to remember this. So I never forget what I can become."

Cole says nothing. He reaches out for me. A burst of light blinds me for only a moment.

Just like that, my sadness is gone. My chest is light, my shoulders free. I know I had a terrible dream, what the dream had been, but the images are no longer there. I blink, the tears sliding down my face no longer mine.

"Better?" Solas asks.

I sigh. "Yes."

"I'm glad I helped."

I turn to look at Cole, but he's gone. So I glance at Solas instead. "Does this mean I cannot travel the Fade with you anymore?"

His eyes open wide in surprise before he laughs. "_That_ is what you worry about?"

"Yes. I still want to learn."

"We can continue our lessons. I do not think they will pose any greater risk than before."

I close my eyes, rest my forehead on my knee. "What a morning."

He chuckles. "I tried to warn you."

* * *

**So this whole thing was something I played with but wasn't 100% sure I wanted to include. But then I heard (given I have no idea if this is true or not) that originally, you could fail the Templar mission and get taken over by Envy. Solas would then have to free you from possession. It made me decide to include this little bit of original backstory.**

**Also, yes I know that Cole technically doesn't take memories (that's possibly what turned the Nightmare into what it is), but I figured this was one of those extreme circumstances where _not_ taking these memories would do more harm than good. Cole and Solas both realize this and are willing to make an exception.**

**Hope everyone enjoyed!**


	27. Letters

27 - Letters

As it turns out, being Inquisitor involves a lot more War Table talk than actual action. Lately, more and more of my free time is spent studying the map with my advisors, talking tactics, sending out troops, hearing the latest news on people who either oppose or support the Inquisition as a whole. It's rather dull work, but it gives me time to really settle in, learn the ins and outs of being their leader. It also serves as an excellent way to distract me from all the revelations the last few days. I don't have much time to think, to worry about things I know should bother me.

I start to get worried about the lack of contact from Hawke as the days pass. Eventually, I ask Leliana to send troops to Crestwood to look for her and her Warden friend, to make sure they're safe.

No one aside from Cole and Solas know about what happened, though I wouldn't be surprised if Leliana had found out. It's because of this that I don't hesitate to slip her a letter addressed to my Keeper, asking her to make sure it's delivered. She does as I ask, nodding her head and leaving for the rookery without a word.

The knowledge that I had once been an abomination doesn't bother me as much as it should. I still find myself waking in the middle of the night, my head full of fake memories conjured during my sleep of me tearing down my clan. They mingle with nightmares of Corypheus chasing me down, Haven collapsing under the weight of a mountain.

I fear more for the future, the possibilities of me becoming an abomination once again, than the past. In fact, it bothers me more that it _doesn't _bother me more than anything, which gives me a headache when I think about it.

"You are doing it again."

"What?" I ask, looking up at where Solas stands, painting his next mural.

"Overthinking."

I groan, rubbing my temples between my fingers. "But, shouldn't I be more distraught? Confused? Sad?"

He turns toward me, bending over so he can press his lips to mine. "Cole removed that pain. Do not dwell on that which is no more."

I sigh. "If you say so."

I sit back, watch him work for a long few minutes. My eyes travel over the murals already completed. The first, depicting the explosion at the Conclave. The second shows the formation of the Inquisition, something of course I had to ask him to understand. The third, which he works on now, shows the Magister standing over two Redcliffe Castles. He is not yet done so I can only assume one Redcliffe must represent the dark future I had seen.

My eyes wander back to the second mural. The Inquisition sword hovers in the middle, but what draws my attention the most are the four wolves—two on either side—howling up at the sky. Like always, they make me uneasy.

"May I ask you a question?" I ask.

"Of course."

"Even if it may offend?"

He pauses—something he doesn't normally do since the painting process must be completed before the plaster dries—to look over his shoulder at me. "Should I fear the question you are going to ask?"

I don't answer. Instead, I avoid his gaze and continue to stare at the wolves on the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his head turn, following my stare to his other piece.

"Ah," he sighs. "The wolves."

"I know you do not follow the Dalish ways and think much of what we do is wrong, but how can you not fear what the wolf represents?"

I can tell by the stiffness of his shoulders that he is trying hard not to lash out. He takes a deep breath. "You forget, I have seen the truth of what the Dalish imitate in the Fade. I know the truths that they either do not know or ignore entirely. Much of what the Dalish tell of Fen'Harel is far from accurate and I refuse to fear that which doesn't need to be feared."

I clench my hands. "What truths do my people ignore? What tales of Fen'Harel do my people tell that are wrong? Did he not betray the gods? Did he not seal them within the Beyond? Did he not trick them in order to do so?!"

"I did not say that."

"Then what _else_ have we gotten wrong?" I ask, throwing my hands into the air.

His paint has dripped slightly and he growls in frustration as he tries to fix it. "This is not the best topic for discussion. It will only anger us both."

"Why are you afraid to talk about this?"

"Because," he says, voice starting to rise so the people above us look down. He sighs, dropping his voice, letting his shoulders relax. "I do not want you to look at me the way you are now."

I start, going still, feeling my heart racing in my chest. I look down at my hands, balled into fists in my lap.

He lowers his voice even more. "I do not want you to see me the way every Dalish clan has when I tell them that which they do not want to hear."

I let out the breath burning in my lungs. I push myself to my feet, walk the few steps to where he stands. Slowly, I wrap my arms around him and bury my face between his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

I feel him sigh before he squeezes my hand.

"I promise not to yell, nor to get mad at you for what you have seen," I whisper. "Do you not trust me to love you no matter what you tell me?"

He leans his head back so it touches the top of mine. "I do, vhenan." He then straightens, shifting slightly so he slides out of my arms to continue his painting. "I merely found that what Fen'Harel did was not as black and white as the Dalish believe. They paint him as evil when he did not see it that way. He did what he believed was best for the people."

"So, you're saying that…Fen'Harel…isn't evil? That what he did wasn't wrong?"

"Yes. And no. What he did _was_ wrong. It lead to the destruction of our people. But he did not do it for his own gain, nor did he do it to spite the gods. He did what he thought best for a people oppressed and suffering."

I stare hard at his hand as it moves across the wall, listening to the beating of my heart.

Could what he says be true? The Fade doesn't always present straight truth, but if even a fraction of it is…

"Can…can you tell me more?" My voice is calmer than I expect.

He stops completely, turning to look at me. His eyes are wide and there's something lurking there I cannot understand. "Sadly, I cannot."

"Why?"

He's actually, really truly, shocked. His breaths are coming quicker, his eyes roaming my face.

"Never mind," I whisper. "It's all right. Maybe someday you will open up to me about the more…controversial things you've learned while in the Fade."

He chuckles then, turning away from me. "You never fail to surprise."

But I can still see the tense set to his shoulders as he works.

After some time has passed, I make my way down the scaffolding and cross his room. I yawn, stretch my arms above my head before settling down on the couch he recently had Josephine acquire for him. It's very large and I'm easily able to spread out completely. There is already a pillow and blanket there. Both smell like him.

"Where did you sleep before Josie got you this couch?" I ask.

It takes him a moment to realize I'm talking to him. "Hm? Oh. Wherever I felt the Fade call to me. Sometimes it was outside, in the courtyard. Sometimes upon the roof."

I curl up, throwing the blanket over me. "Sounds uncomfortable."

"Hence why I asked for the couch," he laughs.

Eventually, he moves the scaffolding out of the way, rolling it to the side so he can work on the lower parts of the wall. After awhile, I blink, my eyes heavy. I open them again and another larger section of the wall is done, Solas in a different position. I blink and he's putting away his things. I try to keep my eyes open but, again, I blink and he's suddenly next to the couch, looking down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Do you wish to walk up to your _own_ quarters?"

I can't answer, my mouth too thick.

He chuckles. "You would not make it anyway. Could you at least make room?"

I groan, pulling the blanket with me as I roll toward the wall.

"_You_ are the one who stole my couch, need I remind you." He slides in next to me. "And you're a bed hog," he sighs, voice heavy with laughter. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Oh shut up and just go to sleep," I mutter.

He steals back some of the blanket. "You are completely insufferable."

"Ma lath ar."

"Of course, vhenan. Always."

* * *

"Inquisitor?"

I bolt upward, gasping. Solas twitches next to me but doesn't move otherwise. Standing next to the couch is Leliana.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," she says, her hands in front of her. "I went to your quarters first but you didn't answer. I figured Solas might know where you'd gone." There's a small smile on her face that makes my face burn.

"What did you need?"

"I received this letter for you."

My look of confusion vanishes within seconds of her handing it to me. "Oh. I forgot about this. Thank you, Leliana."

"Of course." She looks at me over her shoulder as she leaves, her eyes bright.

I sigh, rubbing my face before reaching down and tearing open the letter.

_Da'len,_

_ I knew one day this would come. I have feared it every day since we took you in._

_ I do not know how you managed to pull forth those memories, but all the ones you mentioned are, indeed, true. It pains me that you had to discover what happened, but I cannot keep you from it any longer._

_ One of our hunters found you and your Keeper while scouting the area. Your Keeper did not say which clan you two were apart of. He only mentioned that you were special—a dreamer—and that you needed to be saved. I was brought to you and he offered himself as the sacrifice to save your life and remove the demon attached to your soul. You were too rare to be killed, he said._

_ We took you in afterwards. I feared that your soul would attract more demons so I used a rare herb to keep you from venturing into the Fade while you slept. I knew this would only keep them at bay, that the moment you left our clan you would be in danger of possession yet again. However, I am glad to see that you still have managed to keep yourself free from demons. No matter how much I lied to you, I do care for you and your well-being._

_ I hope that you are well. I also wish you the best._

_ Dareth shiral._

_ Keeper Istimaethoriel Lavellan_

I crumple the letter in my hand, resting my head against the fist where it crinkles in my palm. I breathe out, closing my eyes, before tossing it on the couch at my feet.

Part of me had been hoping that everything would be a misunderstanding. That Cole and Solas were wrong. I had never been an abomination. I had never drifted into the Fade and let a demon into my body. The letter squashed the last of that hope, turning it into ash in my chest.

Why had she lied to me for all those years? Why hadn't she told me of the dangers instead of hiding them from me? Was it because she didn't think me strong enough to know the truth? Was she afraid of what I would become if I found out?

The anger is like a fire in my veins, cooled by waves of both understanding and doubt.

I look up. It's still dark outside. I shake my head, clenching my fists. I then breathe out, laying my head back down on the pillow.

Solas still sleeps. I curl up next to him, carefully nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. He sighs in response, wrapping an arm around me before going still again. This makes me smile, driving the thoughts of the letter crumpled up at our feet out of my mind.

* * *

Dorian is awfully quiet. He's hunched over a letter of his own, sitting on a large chair with his head hanging.

"Anything interesting?" I ask.

He doesn't jump. He just looks up at me. "A letter regarding Felix."

"Felix?"

"Alexius's son."

Oh, that's right. I sit on the arm of his puff chair.

"He went to the Magisterium. Stood on the senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I'm informed. No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word."

"Was?"

He goes quiet, his eyebrows furrowing. "He's dead. The Blight caught up with him."

My heart sinks. I had liked him. He had seemed a decent person, like Dorian. "Are you all right?"

He shrugs. "He was ill, and thus on borrowed time anyhow."

"That doesn't mean you can't regret his death."

"I know." A sad smile twitches underneath his mustache. "Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father's study. 'Don't get into trouble on my behalf,' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say. Tevinter could use more mages like him, those who put the good of others above themselves."

I hesitate. The love and care in his eyes is so obvious. "Were the two of you…?"

"Felix and I?" His eyebrows shoot up, his eyes wide. "What an odd question. No, I had no intention of abusing Alexius's hospitality by seducing his son. Not that I've been proper my whole life, by any means. It wasn't like that. Even in illness, Felix was the best of us. With him around, you knew things could be better."

"He should be an example for others to follow, or his death is wasted."

He smiles. "Should I spread the word? We could spawn the Cult of Felix within a matter of days."

I laugh. "There are worse things."

"Probably true… And you're right. His actions should not be forgotten…" He looks up at me then, his eyes piercing into mine. "Thankfully Felix wasn't the only decent sort kicking around Thedas."

"Thanks, Dorian. You're not half bad yourself."

He waves his hand in the air. "Everyone knows that."

Josephine walks up then. "Your Worship."

"Yes?"

"We've received contact from your clan."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, Leliana already—"

"_Another_ contact."

I swallow. "Oh?"

"Apparently, some bandits have been giving them trouble. They've asked for help from the Inquisition."

Dorian squeezes my arm.

"Have any of them been killed?" I ask.

"Not that their letter disclosed. They've been driven to a small valley near Wycome."

"Should…should we send some of Cullen's men to help? Drive away the bandits?"

"That might be a good idea. I can also contact the Duke of Wycome. He's an Inquisition ally. It's odd for him to let the bandits so close to the city…"

"Do both," I say, my heart hammering. "Contact the Duke and have Cullen send his men as well."

She bows. "Your Worship." She then leaves, her feet carrying her faster than normal toward Cullen's office.

"Don't worry yourself," Dorian says, patting my back. "Our Ambassador will work her magic. That woman knows how to mince words like the best."

My stomach still churns with unease.

* * *

**Just a reminder, after I post chapter 30 I'll be moving down to one chapter a week, so I don't fall behind on proofreading before I post. I will be posting on Fridays. If I ever get to the point that I finish this and have everything proofread, I'll go back to two days a week.**

**Thank you all my readers! I adore you guys and your reactions to my story!**


	28. Dirthavaren

28 - Dirthavaren

I decide I need to get out of the castle to ease my nerves. It takes moments for me to figure out just where I want to go. I go to everyone, asking if they would like to come with me. All but Vivienne say yes. Her excuse is that she wants to stay behind to help Josephine "make Skyhold more presentable to guests." Even Sera and Iron Bull both agree to come. I leave Solas for last, a bit hesitant about his answer given where I want to go.

"What is it, vhenan?" he asks when I walk into his rotunda.

"I've decided to go on an excursion."

He straightens in his chair. "Where to?"

I hesitate. "Dirthavaren."

"Ah. Of course."

"I-if you don't wish to come along— "

He holds up his hand. "It is quite all right. I understand why the Plains would interest you. Your first visit wasn't under…pleasant circumstances."

I bite my lip. Dirthavaren—known as the Exalted Plains to shemlen—was where Wisdom had been summoned and killed. Indeed, my first visit was focused solely on trying to save Solas's friend and I hadn't stopped to take in the land, absorb the place so important to the Elvhen people.

"Do not worry yourself. I hold no ill will against Dirthavaren."

"Then, do you want to come with all of us as well?"

"All of us?"

I laugh under my breath. "I think everyone is feeling a little stir-crazy. All but Vivienne agreed to come."

He frowns. "Well, I do not want to find myself alone with the Enchanter, so yes. I will come."

"Good. We leave in the morning."

* * *

Everyone is talking excitedly with each other when I reach the stables the next morning. Bulging packs are already slung across the backs of many of the horses.

"Inquisitor," Cassandra says, walking up to me. "I was just saying that maybe we should consider partnering up on horseback so we do not take so many of the Inquisition's horses."

Varric sighs. "And _I_ said we'll be fine. The Inquisition has plenty of horses to go around now that we have Dennet."

"Hm." I set my back down. "But Cassandra does have a point. I hadn't expected so many of you to want to come."

"Well, we all are a bit eager to get out and kick some ass," Iron Bull grunts. "I'm tired of just sitting around drinking all day."

"You?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "Tired of drinking?"

"Well, no. Not really."

I laugh. "All right. Cassandra does have a good point. We shouldn't take a bunch of the Inquisition's horses, so let's all pair up."

Solas, who had been hiding in the shadows watching, walks up and takes my hand. Blackwall and Sera quickly converge to pile both their packs on one horse. Varric smiles enthusiastically at Cole, who then twitches his way over to the dwarf nervously.

Cassandra points out that Iron Bull should have his own horse, which he seems to take in stride.

"Good. I didn't want to share," he mutters.

Which, of course, leaves Cassandra and Dorian together, something neither of them seem too happy about. Dorian is a bit more loud in his protests—"I can ride with the Bull! I don't mind really!"—but Cassandra merely scoffs and yanks him over to their horse.

Conversations all blend together as we trot along the path. Bits and pieces float back to me but I ignore all of it, focusing instead on the sounds of the horses pattering against the gravel. The wind whistling across the mountains. Hawks crying while they fly overhead. Eventually, I lean forward, placing my ear against Solas's back to listen to the air rush in and out of his lungs.

He chuckles. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Very much," I say, wrapping my arms around him.

"Would you like to travel the Fade while we roam the Plains?"

I sit up. "Really?"

He nods. "Of course. The land is thick with memories and spirits. The Veil is thin there and we'll be able to slip across with just a thought. It would provide the perfect training grounds, given we find a place safe enough for us to sleep."

"Safe enough?"

"The land has seen many battles and much bloodshed. Acts of such violence weaken the Veil. Did you not sense all of the spirits roaming the land last we were there?"

"Uh, no. Not really. I wasn't paying much attention."

He hesitates. "Of course. I do apologize for ruining that first trip for you."

"You didn't ruin it," I whisper.

"I did. You cannot deny this."

I sigh.

We talk until it starts to get dark. Cassandra then pulls ahead to find a clearing where we can set up all the tents.

Somehow, both Iron Bull and Varric managed to bring enough mead for everyone to have a good solid buzz going the first couple of nights. Admittedly, I have too much the first night, to the point that Sera has to help me to the girls' tent. My staggering puts Dorian into an uncontrollable fit of laughter and has Solas narrowing his eyes at me. When I wake the next morning, the pounding in my head spurs me to swear alcohol off entirely.

"You look _awful_," Dorian says when I crawl out of the tent.

"Shut up," I mutter.

"Not much of a drinker, are you?"

I shake my head but immediately stop when my temples pulse.

"You're quite the talker when you're drunk. Not a bad singer, either."

I freeze, groaning. "Wait, I was _singing_?" I don't even remember doing that. Just how drunk did I get?

"Oh, yes. It was marvelous. Varric even pulled a guitar out of…well, who-knows-where, and played along with you. It was quite adorable, really."

I groan. "_Who_ convinced me to sing? And why didn't anyone stop me?"

"Oh, that was Cassandra. She said something about Leliana mentioning how you used to sing for your clan sometimes around the fire. No one believed her and you just stood up, threw your drink into the air, and yelled 'Of course I did!' Then you started bellowing like an old mule, though you _did_ sound much better, I'll concede. You must not be half bad a singer if you sing that well when inebriated."

I flop myself down on the ground, burying my face in my hands. "Next time? Stop me."

After the tents are packed, I hesitantly walk up to Solas while rubbing my temples. Even though I don't remember much of the night, I _do_ remember that small spark of disappointment in his eyes before Sera had tossed me through the tent flap.

"Good morning," he says, back to me. His shoulders seem tenser than normal.

"Good morning," I repeat. "By the way, if you ever see me pick up a drink again, please feel free to slap me. All right?"

His shoulders relax almost immediately. He laughs, throwing his head back slightly before turning toward me, smile stretching across his face. "You _were_ quite the showman."

"Oh, not you too," I groan, shoving him.

"I did not realize you sang for your clan. You never mentioned it."

"For good reason," I mutter. "I didn't do it often."

"Shame," he says, throwing my pack across our horse. "Dorian is correct. You weren't half bad, even in your…drunken state."

My cheeks flush.

It continues like that for the next few days. We all ride in pairs during the day, set up tents for the night, and then Varric, Iron Bull, and Dorian try to convince me to drink again so I'll sing. I vehemently refuse to do both which makes them pout in disappointment.

On the third day, we realize that Cole doesn't really need to ride on the horse and only does merely to talk to Varric when he's bored. Most of the time Varric rides alone, Cole either nowhere in sight or constantly blinking in and out of existence in front of us, picking flowers or muttering thoughts out loud with a grin on his face. It makes me smile. Like the banquet back in Haven, I think to myself that we all needed this. To get out of the castle and actually get out in the field.

I can feel when we draw close. The Veil grows thinner and thinner the closer we get. I can feel it pressing against my skin, goose-pimples rising on my exposed flesh. Even Solas shivers the further we go.

We finally reach the camp set up near the entrance into the Exalted Plains. Scout Harding is already there and walks up to greet us all as we jump down from our horses. She tells us that a group of rebel soldiers calling themselves "Freeman" are adding to the chaos spreading through the land on top of the Civil War.

"They seem to be simple deserters, tired of fighting and dying for either the Empress or the Grand Duke. Now they want the Dales for their own. Worse? They're more organized than we anticipated. Be wary."

Dorian scoffs. "It figures that most of the fighting happened here and not in Orlais."

"Just what I was thinking," I mutter to him.

"Should we set up camp, boss?" Iron Bull asks, looking at me.

"Sure. Let's set up our tents for the night."

* * *

The next morning, we take a few minutes to figure out who is doing what with whom. It had been quickly decided that all of us traveling together wouldn't be the best idea as it would attract too much attention.

Eventually, we decide that Blackwall, Sera, and Solas will come with me. Cassandra is going to lead the rest to help the scouts take the rest of the Plains, setting up camps and taking note of how many rifts litter the area. If I need any one of them, scouts in the area are ready with messenger birds. They leave first.

It's strange, for those first few minutes, to not hear everyone chatting with each other. Sera and Blackwall talk to each other under their breaths but other than that, it's fairly quiet.

My skin tingles in anticipation, looking out over the land in front of me. Remnants of old buildings and archways stand on the path in front of us. The air sings to me, humming and dancing across my skin.

"Where shall we go first?" Solas asks.

I hesitate. There's so much potential. So many places we could go. So many things for me to see…

"Perhaps we go toward the forest," Blackwall says, pointing off to our left.

Everything calls to me, my body shaking, so I jump at the suggestion. "Yes. Let's go."

It doesn't take long to see just how much the weakened Veil has affected this place. Demons roam freely here, no rift in sight. Spirits possess the dead bodies of the warring soldiers. For the first time, I get to use my Knight-Enchanter abilities in battle. At first I'm hesitant, holding back with Solas. But when the first demon pushes past Blackwall and rushes us, I do not think. I reach out in front of me, calling my spirit blade into my hand to slash at the creature hurdling toward us.

I duck as it swings one of its great clawed hands at me. I throw my weight into my blade, arching it up, feeling it slice through flesh. It screams, flailing as it falls. My body is warm, pulsing with energy and excitement.

They follow me as I run down the path that cuts through the hills. Almost immediately, I freeze.

"What's wrong?" Sera asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing. I'm just not used to…well…"

Her eyes travel up the two Fen'Harel statues facing us on either side of the path. "Oh, those things? Isn't that supposed to be that wolf guy? The Fen-thingy?"

"Yes," I say. "Our clan always just had one small statue of him placed outside our camp. I'm not used to seeing it…displayed so prominently." And so large.

"We _are_ in Dalish territory," Solas whispers.

"Eh." Sera shrugs. "Elfy things are weird."

I try hard to remember what Solas had told me of Fen'Harel. I push my shoulders back and walk forward, not looking at either statue as I walk between them.

Two Dalish hunters stand on the path. They turn toward us, nod their heads in my direction. I feel my heart speed up. It's the first time I've been near one of my people since this all started.

"Aneth ara, da'len," one of them says as I approach. "Good to see one of the people here in the Dirth, even in the middle of this shemlen mess."

"Andaran atish'an," I say, inclining my head. "It's been quite a long time since I've met a Dalish."

He looks me up and down, his white hair falling in front of his face. "You're her. The Inquisitor, aren't you?"

I start. "Yes."

"I'd thought the rumor their leader was one of the people was just that: a rumor. I'm glad to see it wasn't."

I say nothing.

"It's a shame you had to come to the Dirth during times like these. The dead are rising all over the land, though they tend to leave us alone. They seem to mainly be after the shemlen groups. I mean, who wouldn't want to take the chance to kill a bunch of them? But still. Pour souls."

I feel a twinge of anger. "Humans _can_ be hard to deal with, but I have many I count as my friends. I would never take that chance if it were given to me."

He shrugs.

Was this clan one of those who hunt and kill humans? The thought makes my stomach twinge. "Do you have a camp near here?"

"Yes. Just on the other side of the hills, near the river. If you happen across it, can you tell my Keeper I'm still out looking for a path through?"

I nod my head. "Of course."

"Dareth shiral, da'len."

Solas's eyes burn into the back of my head as we leave. I _know_ he can sense my hesitation and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it in my eyes. We push forward, following the path toward the river marked on our map. Once we find it, we stop for a few moments to clear a rift hovering at the bottom of a small waterfall. Then we keep going. Blackwall and Sera walk on either side of the river while I trod through the shallow water, sighing at the familiarity of the stones under my feet. Solas follows behind me.

Halla—pure white stags with shining silver antlers—roam the land on either side freely. It makes me feel as if I'm back home, wandering the wilds around our camp in search of the next adventure.

The river curves off to the left and then…

"Elfy-elves," Sera mutters. "Get ready for 'proper culture' blah blah blah."

The red sails of the aravels come into view. I feel my chest lighten, my feet picking up speed as I walk up to their camp.

The man who can only be their Keeper walks up to me. His skin is darker than mine, hair white as snow. "Andaran atish'an, my sister. It is good to see another of the People, in this place from which we all came." He spreads his arms, turning to look at the land around him. "Still beautiful, isn't it? Even with scars left by the shemlen war and all the troubles that followed."

Something about his eyes makes me pause. They seem dark, worried.

"It is, hahren… Does something trouble you?"

We spend the rest of the day doing stuff for the small clan. Clearing out one of their burial grounds of demons. Gathering supplies. Finding the legendary golden Halla—hanal'ghilan—and guiding it close to the clan to keep it safe from hunters. My friends follow without complaint, indulging me and my whims.

When the sun starts to set, I sit just out of reach of their fire, listening to their stories with my eyes closed. I hadn't even noticed how much I missed it. My heart feels light, my body completely relaxed. But there's a strange stab of…something hiding in the depths of my veins.

These aren't my people. This isn't my home. It never will be. Not again.

"Vhenan."

I jump, wiping the stray tear that had seeped from my eye. "Yes?"

"We should make our way back to camp. Else the others will worry."

I look over my shoulder, to where Sera and Blackwall are covering their small fire just outside of the Dalish camp. I then nod. "All right. Let's go back."

I take a moment to talk with the Keeper. He bids me farewell, his eyes still slightly hesitant.

They don't trust me. Even though I'm clearly one of the People. Even though we've spent all day venturing around the Dirth doing favors for them. Oddly enough, I don't feel as upset about this as I expect myself to.

The others have already arrived at the camp by the time we get there. They're already passing out food and drink, laughing as they recount the days events.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra says, motioning to us as we come into the light. "There you are! Come! I must tell you about what we have discovered."


	29. Secrets

29 - Secrets

Cassandra and Blackwall lead Cole and Varric to help the Inquisition soldiers clear a path into a secluded grove, and also rebuild a bridge leading to Citadelle du Corbeau, the stronghold for Empress Celene's forces. Iron Bull and Dorian join Solas, Sera, and I as we work on helping the soldiers retake the ramparts scattered across the land. The dead rise in droves and to stop their flow, we have to find the source of all the bodies and burn them. It's sad work that has me cringing in disgust as the smell of burning and rotted flesh smothers the air around us.

After clearing out the second rampart of the day, Sera lets out a big groan.

"What?" Iron Bull asks.

"The Dalish want _this_ back?"

I crinkle my nose. I can't help but agree. Even though I feel the same pull, the same desire to take back these lands that were once promised to us, I understand what she means. This land is permanently damaged, the Veil thin. The whispers around are constant, flitting across the skin like a hummingbird caressing a flower to draw out the nectar. It's unnerving.

"This region will be home to demons for ages to come," Solas says, mirroring my thoughts. "The Plains have been soaked in too much unexalted blood."

We push forward, retaking all three ramparts scattered across the land. By the time we're done, we're near Fort Revasan, the stronghold for Grand Duke Gaspard's troops. When we reach it, we're thanked heavily by the lieutenant for clearing the ramparts and helping them clear the land.

Just outside the fort, we run into the other companions clearing the last of the rubble blocking the archway into a small grove. Again, as seem to be everywhere, a statue of Fen'Harel lay outside of the archway, facing outward.

"We're almost done here, Inquisitor," Cassandra says. "We should have access to this area within the hour."

"What about the collapsed bridge?"

"That should be done sometime tomorrow," Blackwall answers.

"Good," Solas says. "Who knows how long they've been cut off from contact."

We gladly jump in to help clear the last of the blockage. By the time we're done, the sky has turned dark and the winds have picked up.

On the other side of the archway is a small tunnel, clouded with fog. Passed the tunnel we find a small clearing, full of fog and trees absent of leaves. In the center stands a giant statue of a great halla—Ghilan'nain, the mother of Halla.

"Oh," I breathe.

This land sings to me more deeply than the entirety of the Dirth together. I can feel the power beneath my toes, swirling and pulsing.

"It's quiet here," Solas whispers. "I like it."

I nod in agreement.

The scouts quickly set up a small camp off to the side of the Ghilan'nain statue. Despite the darkness, thick with fog, my body wants nothing more than to explore this place, untouched for who knows how long. What secrets hide here? What stories will we discover?

There is a rift not far from the camp, so Cassandra and Solas quickly join me to go take down the demons and close it.

I explore the small clearing as everyone else eats and drinks. I don't wander too far, not straying past the other ancient archways leading deeper into the area. By the time all my friends have gone quiet, I know every nook and cranny of Ghilan'nain's Grove by heart.

I do not jump when I hear footsteps behind me.

"I did promise you a trip into the Fade, did I not?"

I look over my shoulder at Solas. "You did."

"Then come. I already have the herbs ready."

I follow him over to where the rift had once hovered. Two bedrolls are already ready, a bowl of herbs smoking between them.

"This will be just as last time. However, you will be following me into my dreams instead."

"How do I do that?"

"I will find you and guide you."

I nod, feeling my pulse start to race. I crawl into the closest of the rolls, laying my head down and closing my eyes, breathing in the scent of the herbs washing over me.

It happens faster than last time. In one breath I go from laying on the floor to standing next to Ghilan'nain's statue. I gasp as I glance around, taking in the changes around me.

The Fade is much different here. It's thick, sky swirling green above, ground hazy beneath my feet. Everywhere I look, spirits dash in and out of sight, dancing, laughing. One comes right up to me, giggling as it swirls out of sight just before touching me.

I jump as something grabs my hand. I look down, see a small spirit there, fading in and out of existence. It pulls at my hand, trying to take me away from the statue.

"I'm waiting for someone," I say, trying hard to think of it as nothing more than what it is right now.

"He's over there." It speaks in Elven. "Pride waits for you." It points toward where our bedrolls lay back in the physical world.

I nod, letting it pull me. As soon as I make to follow, it lets go and floats ahead of me. Once it crosses through the archway, it disappears in a whirl of smoke and a laugh.

Solas is waiting, just like the spirit said. He smiles as I walk up, holding out his hand.

"Did you send that spirit for me?"

"Of course."

I take his hand.

"Come. You should see what lies ahead."

He pulls me forward, around the ruins of the walls surrounding us. I stay quiet, watching the spirits flit in and out.

"They're funny little things," I whisper.

He chuckles. "Yes. The wisps are quite playful and curious things."

"Are there always so many?"

"No. Like I said, they're curious."

"About what?"

"You. They like your spirit. As do I."

I smile, though it's small and unsure.

"Do not fear. They mean us no harm."

"I know."

We travel down the path, watch the hills around us spread wider. On the ground in front of us is a large stone hand, its body no where in sight.

"Dead Hand is what the humans call this," Solas says.

"Fitting."

He laughs.

He leads me down a set of stairs that descend into a dark hole in the ground. Deep beneath the earth we find an ancient temple which holds statues of both Falon'Din **(1)** and Dirthamen **(2)**. In the center is a great chamber, seemingly untouched for ages.

"Show us the way," Solas speaks.

The spirits around us pick up speed, chattering, whispering.

My body shivers as Solas's hand trails down my back. "Watch carefully."

The spirits flit around the room, lighting torches, pulling levers so doors open and close, spinning the great statue of an elven archer. With each spin, it lets loose a great arrow of power that then hovers in one of four spheres. Using the torches and levers, the spirits lower the pillars blocking the arrow's path until all four shine brightly.

The power in the orbs then dance over to the far end of the room, throwing open the gate. Almost immediately, Solas pulls me forward and we ascend, moving through the dancing spirits as if they aren't there.

We come back to the surface, finding ourselves in a dark bog.

"What _was_ that?" I ask.

"One of many ancient ruins hidden in this place. A test of cunning and wit."

"Why did the spirits show us so willingly?"

"You just have to ask."

I look back toward the tunnel we had just come through. "Will that be accessible back in the physical world?"

"Of course. And now, we will know its secret and how to pass through unharmed."

My mouth twitches. "So this is what you do when you dream, then? Find ruins and learn their secrets."

He smiles.

"Fascinating," I mutter.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Quite."

"There is more still, then."

"More?"

He says nothing, just uses my hand to pull me forward into the waters. The spirits guide us now, as if they know exactly where Solas wishes to go. I say nothing.

We walk into a clearing. Up ahead, I see a set of stairs standing alone. I know without asking that this is what he had wanted me to see. I move ahead of him, walk up the stairs that are half collapsed into the waters. At the end of the narrow walkway is an archway that leads to the side of the mountain before ending in rubble. On either side of the archway…

"It's…a shrine to Fen'Harel," I whisper.

Two wolves sit on either side, heads up in a silent howl. One is black and the other white.

"Yes," Solas whispers. "As I said, he was not always seen as evil."

I swallow, approaching the archway. Directly in the middle stands a table. On the table are two bowls, both knocked over sideways, contents spilling onto the ground.

Even though my heart pounds, I do not hesitate. I reach over, pull the bowls upright, placing the flowers back inside.

"Do you have anything I can offer?" I ask.

"I…"

I look over my shoulder at him. His eyes are curious, torn.

"Think of what you wish for and the Fade will make it so."

It takes only a second for me to know what I would like to place at the alter. When I turn, a single Crystal Grace lay on the ground in front of me. I reach down and pick it up to place it in one of the bowls. Then, the Fade knowing what I want before I even do, a small ring appears on the table. I pick it up as well, glancing at it. The carvings on the sylvanwood ring almost seem to glow, the minuscule wolf dancing across the surface. I place it in the bowl as well.

When I turn, it's to find Solas leaning on his staff, watching me, eyes thoughtful.

"What?" I ask.

"Why those two things?"

"I—" I shrug. "Crystal Grace is my favorite flower. And the ring…Keepers wear it to remind themselves about the betrayal. I am no Keeper so I do not have one myself, but it seemed fitting."

There is something very sad about the small smile on his lips. "You believe me, then?"

"I…I am open to the idea that you may be right about this."

He raises his eyebrows. "I _am_ right about this."

I twist my hands in front of me. "Like I said, I'm open to the idea."

He chuckles. "That is…more than most." He reaches out, grabs my hand, pulls me toward him.

His kiss makes my heart race, my head spin. His hands sliding down my back brings heat up into my cheeks. The spirits around us giggle, voices brushing over my skin.

He pulls away and I let out a deep breath. I blink a few times, clearing my head.

"What do you believe in?" I ask.

"I believe the elven gods existed, but do not think any of them were truly gods."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I believe they were no more than powerful mages, whose deeds ascended them into legend that turned into godhood."

This shakes me more than I anticipate. I feel it deep in my core, feel my world start to crack. "The gods…weren't gods? They were just…_mages_?"

I can see in his eyes how he thinks, backtracks. "It's merely what I believe. Like you asked of me."

I shake my head. "B-but you've traveled the Fade. Seen truths and pasts we—"

"Vhenan, hush. Do not take the Fade so literally."

My chest pulses. What if he's right? What if the elven gods weren't real? What if they were just…people?

"Please, my heart." He reaches out, caresses my cheek. This pulls me back a small bit. "Let us head back. I am sure the Seeker will be looking for us."

Next moment, I'm sitting up, the world no longer swirling and twisting around me. I let out a deep breath as I throw off the blanket covering me.

Solas isn't there. His bedroll is gone.

I take a moment to let my panic overtake me, breathing into my knees. The gods weren't real. What did that mean? How much of my culture was based off of lies and half-truths?

"Inquisitor!"

I jump, looking up just when Cassandra appears, Solas a few feet behind her. Her eyes are wide.

"What is it?" I ask, standing.

"I just received word from Leliana. She asks that you return immediately."

"I—" I look at Solas. His eyes are hard, shoulders stiff. I feel my stomach drop. "What happened?"

"It's…it's about your clan."

* * *

**(1) Falon'Din - elven god of death and fortune; guides the dead to the Beyond; twin of Dirthamen**

**(2) Dirthamen - elven god of secrets and knowledge; twin of Falon'Din**


	30. Alone

30 - Alone

It only takes me a minute to pack. By then, Sola already has the horse ready. Half of my companions aren't even awake yet so I don't bother to tell them I'm leaving. Cassandra knows. That is enough.

Solas pulls me up onto the horse with him. He then clicks his tongue, steering the horse through the archway and out into the Plains.

We only stop to switch and let the other rest, and to give the horse the chance to close its eyes for a couple hours when its feet cannot move any longer. The sound of the horse's hooves against the ground is like a drum, keeping beat with the mantra in my mind.

No.

No.

No. No. No.

I fully understand the fear that had plagued Solas as we rode to try and save Wisdom from the mages. The fear of the unknown. That, no matter what, we'll be too late.

Skyhold finally comes into view. We fly through the gates, jumping off the horse before it's fully stopped.

"Go," Solas says, voice raw with disuse. "I shall take care of the horse and our things."

"Thank you," I say, turning and sprinting up the stairs, to the upper courtyard, then up to the great hall.

Josephine meets me just outside her office.

"Your Worship," she whispers.

I don't have to read the letter in her hands to know. I can see it in her eyes. But I take it anyway.

_Ambassador Montilyet,_

_ I regret that my help for your Dalish allies came too late to be of use. By the time my forces arrived in the area, the Dalish had been scattered or killed, and there seems little left of their clan._

_ I understand your Inquisitor must be feeling the loss of her clan. Please accept these gifts and my promise of future help whenever it is necessary._

_ Yours,_

_ Duke Antoine of Wycome_

That's it, then. My clan is gone. Killed by bandits.

"W-what happened with Cullen's forces?" I ask, voice shaking.

"He arrived just after the Duke. They…they sent back this."

I look up from the letter. Through the haze clouding my eyes, I see a single ring tucked in her palm. My hand quivers as I reach out and take it.

The sylvanwood ring.

The whole world spins. Deep, dark, disappearing into the void like a new Breach opening above me.

They're gone. They're all gone.

I'm all alone.

Tears pour down my face. I don't bother to stop or cover them. I feel Josephine's hesitation before she walks up and wraps her arms around me.

"I'm so sorry, Your Worship."

I shake my head, my whole body trembling. I push away from her, crumple the letter in my hand.

I don't realize I'm running until I feel the snow under my feet. I'm outside the walls, darting across the bridge, down the path leading out.

I trip, falling into the snow. I don't bother to pick myself back up. Instead, I let the scream in my lungs loose where I know no one can hear.

* * *

It's dark by the time I walk back across the bridge. I can feel the tears frozen on my cheeks, in my hair. My whole body shivers with cold.

Solas says nothing when he approaches me just inside the gate. He merely pulls off his cloak and throws it over my shoulders. Everything from the last few days catches up to me and I collapse as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his grasp.

I'm barely aware of him picking me up and carrying me back to my quarters. He lays me down on my bed, curls up next to me as the tears start streaming down my face again. Still, he says nothing, just holds me as I cry. Holds my world in place so it doesn't disappear into the black hole that has opened under my feet. It's only as my sobs start to fade and my body goes heavy with exhaustion that he finally speaks.

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan."

I do not sleep well. Flashes of nightmares burst into my mind every time I close my eyes. Members of my clan being slaughtered. Arrows protruding from their bodies. Blood soaking the ground. It makes me think of whatever memories that have been blocked from my mind, of me turning on my people and bringing them down with just a thought.

It's all my fault.

Cole appears at some point but I turn him away, shaking my head.

"This is mine. It's mine," I mutter, his voice echoing mine.

"Let him help you," Solas whispers to me.

"No. No. No," both Cole and I say.

"She needs you," Cole continues. "You make her world light. You hold it up."

Solas sighs. "Then go."

I can feel time passing. The others get back, come up to give their condolences. But I do not respond, keep my back turned to them and my head under my quilt.

"It'll take time," I hear Solas whisper.

Eventually, I hear the unmistakable sounds of a bath being filled. This makes me stir a bit, looking over my shoulder.

"Inquisitor," the servant says, bowing her head. "The water shall be ready soon."

"Bath?" The sound of my own voice—hoarse, croaking, broken—startles me.

"Yes, my lady."

"I requested one for you."

I look over at Solas, who sits at my desk with a book in his hand. "Why?"

"It will help you feel better. Like your old self."

I groan, throw the covers back over my head.

It's a few more minutes before someone pulls the covers down. I don't have the strength to fight it.

"Come, vhenan. Undress. I will leave so you can bathe."

"I don't want to bathe. You use it if you want it so bad."

He scowls at me. "Do you _want_ me to undress you instead? I will if I must."

My cheeks flush but I groan and throw back the covers. "Fine. If you insist." I stand, only slightly wobbly, and start to pull off my clothes in defiance.

Solas's ears turn pink but he turns away, stomping his way out and down the stairs. I don't hear the door close.

I grumble and complain the entire time I pull off my clothes, tossing them violently in a corner. I then march over to the bath and throw my legs over the side. In my frustration my foot slips out from under me and I fall, water and bubbles splashing up and over the sides of the bath.

Solas's soft laugh drifts up from somewhere near my door.

"I thought you left."

"Not quite." His voice still merely drifts up from the bottom of my stairwell. "You're quite adorable when you're angry."

I curse under my breath.

He says nothing more. I sit facing the stairwell, watching. He doesn't come back up but I know he's there, waiting. I eventually let the water overtake me, dropping my head underneath the surface and holding my breath.

By the time I'm done, I don't want to admit that I _do_ feel slightly better. I sigh, step out of the tub to dry and dress. I then walk over to the railing, peering down.

Solas sits stretched out across the bottom step, head leaning back against the wall. He sees me appear and sits up straight.

"How long have I been…?"

"Nearly a fortnight."

My heart falls. "That long?"

"Grief…does strange things to passing time."

I can feel my eyes growing heavy again. It's surprising how much the bath took out of me. "Thank you," I whisper.

He tilts his head to the side. "Do you wish to eat?"

I hesitate. "Have I eaten at all? I don't really remember doing anything other than sleep."

"Bits here and there. I can have one of the servants bring something for you."

"You don't have to care for me. I can do it."

He stands, shaking his head. "No. You should rest. You are mere moments from collapsing."

I know what he says is true. I can feel my body shaking. I turn away from him, stumble my way to the bed.

I'm gone within moments.

"Vhenan."

I jerk up. Solas stands above me, holding a small loaf of bread and an apple. I yawn and take them from him.

The bath is gone, I notice.

"Why am I so weak?" I mutter.

He sits down next to me. "The body reacts in strange ways to grief. Some become invigorated. Some fall into an abyss that swallows the conscious whole."

I eat in silence for a long few minutes. The small meal fills me quicker than I expect so I pass him the leftovers. Already, I can feel sleep trying to take me again. I fight it, force my eyes to stay open.

Solas glances at me as I sway. "Sleep. I will stay."

* * *

I wake sometime deep in the night. As he had promised, Solas is still there, deep in slumber next to me. The food I had eaten earlier has settled, giving me a burst of energy. I carefully push myself out, wrap a cloak around my shoulders before walking out to my balcony.

The air bites at my skin but I don't flinch against it. Instead I lean up against my railing, let my eyes adjust to the deep darkness around me. I stay there for a long time, listening to the wind whistle across the mountains.

"How are you feeling?"

I squeal, jumping as I turn around. "Fenedhis, Solas. Don't _do_ that."

He laughs. "I apologize. I thought you heard me wake."

"Obviously not."

He moves to stand next to me. "How are you feeling?" he asks again.

"Better," I say after a moment. "No matter. I cannot merely lay in bed for the rest of my life, grieving their loss."

He hums an agreement.

"They will always be my family, but…they haven't been for quite a long time."

"Why?"

"The Inquisition, you, the rest of our companions… You have been more my family these last few months than they have been. My Keeper sent me away, knowing I would probably never return. _Hoping_ I would never return. I have to accept that."

"I…you consider me part of your family?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Of course." I reach out and take his hand. "You're the most important person to me here. Why wouldn't I?"

His eyes are wide, eyebrows high.

I laugh. "Why does my love for you surprise you so?"

"It's…just unexpected."

I roll my eyes, pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders. He chuckles, shifting so he wraps his arms around me, resting his forehead against the back of my head. I sigh, close my eyes and lean back into him.

I can feel my body still heavy with sadness. But there's something else there. A spark of hope. Of light.

"I'm fine," I repeat, more to myself than anything. "I cannot spend the rest of my life grieving their loss. I must move on."

He kisses the top of my head. "Wise words."

* * *

**All right everyone! Just a reminder that from here on, I'll be posting once a week, on Fridays. However, I will _not_ be posting this coming Friday due to me having to prepare for a trip I'm taking on Saturday. So the next chapter will be posted on Friday the 31st. I'm sorry if this upsets any of you.**

**Thank you all for sticking with me through this! Thank you for your reviews and thoughts (I love hearing and seeing them!) and I hope you guys continue to enjoy what I've done :)**


	31. Lessons

31 - Lessons

"Josephine?"

"Your Worship." She bows before walking through my door. "I came to inform you that the date for the Grand Masquerade has been set. I've secured an invitation."

I'd completely forgotten about the ball. "When is it?" I ask.

"One month."

I nod.

"It might be a good idea for me to give you some…minor instructions on how to play the Game before then."

"Instructions?"

"Yes. Meet me in an hour?"

My brows furrow. "Of course. Thank you." I close the door, sighing. "The Inquisition moves on," I mutter.

"Duty calls?" Solas asks, appearing behind me.

"Apparently. I'd forgotten about the peace talks. Seems so long ago that Josephine had mentioned them."

He leans down, kisses me gently. "Then I shall leave you to prepare for these 'lessons.'"

I stick my tongue out at him, which makes him laugh. I then watch him leave, letting my heart patter in my ribs like a hummingbird.

* * *

The next three weeks move in a blur. Almost every spare minute is spent in Josephine's office, reading up about nobility, learning how to properly hold utensils, how to walk in heels without tripping over the hem of my dress. Both Leliana and Josephine instruct me, telling me what and what not to say.

"A wrongly spoken word can be as deadly as a knife to the back," Josephine says.

"You must constantly stay one step ahead of the other players," Leliana adds. "Wit and cunning will get you far, as well as a balance of truths and lies."

They fill me in on everything they know about the Masquerade.

"During the festivities, Celene will be meeting for peace talks with the usurper Grand Duke Gaspard and Ambassador Briala," Josephine says.

"The assassin must be hiding within one of these factions." Leliana hands me a new book to skim through.

"Who is this Ambassador Briala?" I ask.

"An Ambassador in name only." Leliana sits next to me on Josephine's couch. "She has organized the elves of Halamshiral into an underground army. The Empress invited her to the peace talks in a bid to gain the elves' alliance in the war. That would be scandal enough, without the rumor that Briala is a jilted lover of Celene's. A personal grudge and a network of saboteurs at her command? A promising lead."

I'm halfway through the first paragraph when I stop. "Wait. The elven leader is a jilted lover of the Empress?"

Leliana shrugs. "It's not widely known. Just a rumor whispered among the palace servants a few years ago. If it were true and were to get out—the Empress and an elf—the scandal could destroy Celene's court." She shakes her head with a coy smile. "Even if a lie, Briala could use it to blackmail the Empress. She has some connection to the throne."

I nod, committing this all to memory. I look to Josephine. "Tell me everything we know about the Empress."

"Empress Celene is a renowned diplomat and reformer," she answers. "She works tirelessly to secure peace for the Empire. Unfortunately, many Orlesians view peace as complacency. She has yet to name an heir, leaving the future of the Empire in doubt if anything happens to her. Especially when the next in line is her cousin Gaspard, who's made few friends on the Council of Heralds."

Leliana cuts in. "Celene is surrounded at all times by countless guards, courtiers, servants, and vassals. What better place for an assassin to hide than the Empress's own household?"

"How can Gaspard still be next in line while he wages war against his Empress?" I ask. Seems kind of silly.

Cullen walks in then, on his way to the War Room. "The title 'Grand Duke' indicates that he was a prince before the Empress took the throne," he says.

"What do you know about Duke Gaspard?" I ask him.

"The man who would have been emperor," Cullen sighs. "He's Celene's cousin, and was the first in line to inherit the throne when Emperor Florian died." He closes his eyes, shrugs. "Celene outmaneuvered him. She won over the Council of Heralds, who hold authority over title disputes. She became Empress, and he a general in the Imperial army. He's well loved by the troops. He's also a Chevalier. Most of their number sided with him when he turned on the Empress."

I think, trying to remember the stuff I've read in the last couple of days. "Aren't the Chevaliers part of the army? Why would they follow the Duke?"

"Most Chevaliers are sworn to serve the crown. But that does not give them faith in the person wearing it. The Empress has tried to improve relations with Ferelden and Nevarra. The Chevaliers see her as antimilitary. They believe Gaspard could lead the Empire back to the glory days of Drakon's expansion years."

I sigh. To me, it kind of sounds like maybe Duke Gaspard has a right to fight for the throne. Celene stole it from him. I'd probably be upset as well and want what was mine back.

I rub my forehead. Why is it I always get dragged in the middle of these shemlen things? "Do we need to go to the peace talks? The Empress must have personal guards. We could just warn her she's in danger."

Josephine hesitates. "We've made the attempt, but…"

Leliana shakes her head. "It seems that our messages never reached her. Someone intercepted them."

"It's better that we don't leave this to chance," Cullen says, turning his back on us to continue on his way. "If Orlais falls to Corypheus, no land is safe."

I sigh.

Josephine and Leliana design a dress for me to wear, muttering colors and fabrics under their breaths as I study the books they've given me in front of the fire.

"I say we go with a high collar neckline," Josephine says. "And a corset to show off her waist."

"No." Leliana shakes her head. "I say, we do a sweetheart, off the shoulder. Have her wear a golden necklace, tight to her skin. Pull her hair up and back. It'll show off her long neck."

Josephine hums. "You're quite right. We should not hide her neck."

"Maybe an open back as well. Diamond shaped, of course. Long, tight sleeves of lace. Black."

Josephine's quill moves quickly across her parchment.

"And we go with a deep blue fabric. Silk. It'll go well with her vallaslin and play well against her skin tone."

"True," Josephine says. "Blue does bring out the color of her eyes. But should we make her vallaslin stand out so? Should we not try to downplay it? The people will already be wary of her being a Dalish."

"No. We should not hide who she is. It'll make it a much better impression when she wins them over."

I try my best to ignore them, rereading the sentence I had been on when they started.

"What about the skirt?" Josephine asks.

"Hm… We need to show off her thin waist but also accentuate her legs. Elves do have such deliciously long legs."

Her tone has me looking over my shoulder at them, my eyebrows furrowed. "You do realize I'm right here?"

"Oh, of course," Leliana says, smiling. "We would not dare speak of this where you cannot hear. You should be prepared."

My neck flushes and I turn away from them.

"What were we saying? Oh, yes." Leliana clears her throat. "I cannot decide between an evening or a draping gown. An evening gown will show off her legs but won't favor her hips. A draping gown would give the appearance of a more supple hip but possibly hide how long her legs are."

I groan, letting my head fall into my hands, giving up on the sentence.

"What about a shorter skirt?" Josephine says after a moment. "It would be a bit unconventional, but would make an impression."

I can almost hear Leliana's mischievous smile. "Of course. Not too short, but short enough. Yes. Let's do a draping style, bunch it at the hips to give the illusion of wider hips. Let the shortest part sit just above her knee. Longest mid-calf. Yes, I adore the idea. She will look wonderful."

"You're enjoying this a bit too much," I mutter.

"Why wouldn't I?" Leliana says.

They role-play with me, teach me how to dance with both my words and my feet. I stumble more than I should. Every night I go to bed absolutely exhausted, my head pounding with all the things I've learned.

Finally, in the week of the ball, I start to find my flow. The things they've been trying to teach me have started to sink in, the right combination of words coming to my lips with more and more ease. I trip less and less over my feet as I move around the room.

My dress is finally done and they bring it in, help me into it. They then walk around me, studying me from all angles.

"I do say you have quite the eye for fashion, Leliana," Josephine says after a moment. "I forgot how good you are at this."

"Of course I am. It _is_ my hobby."

I can't help but think they're both right. I look into the mirror, marvel at just how much their choices really brings out the best of my body. I turn to the side, watch the light play off the fabric, the same exact color of both my eyes and vallaslin. The blue also brings out the more subtle sun-kissed tone of my skin, makes my faded freckles in my cheeks stand out.

"She looks wild. Desirable," Leliana purrs. "She will be the talk of the party."

"I daresay, she quite will."

I jump. "Dorian! What're you doing in here?"

"Why, I'm here to see just how the dress looks on you, of course. You _do_ rather look quite fetching."

"Oh, shut up, Dorian," I mutter, ignoring the heat spreading up my neck.

"Our little elven apostate will barely be able to keep his eyes, and hands, off of you," he says, twiddling his mustache. "Nor will any of the other male guests."

I look at Leliana and Josephine over my shoulder. "Is that the point of this? To make men want me?"

"Why, of course," Leliana says, eyebrows raised. "There is a certain undertone of sexuality at these things, you know."

The day before we're supposed to leave, Josephine stops me in the middle of one of our back and forth games.

"I think you're ready," she says.

"Yes. I daresay our Inquisitor will make quite an impression on the other attendees," Leliana adds, nodding her head approvingly.

"Remember, we'll be there to find the would be assassin and stop them," Josephine says, walking around me to pull at my dress, adjusting it along my waist.

"Or, at least, throw in our support for a different ruler, if need be," Leliana says.

Josephine just looks at her, eyebrows raised. "Why would you suggest that?"

"Grand Duke Gaspard does have a legitimate claim to the throne." Leliana shrugs. "He may be what Orlais needs."

Josephine ignores this. "You should decide who to bring with you. Aside from us, of course."

"Can't all of us go?" I ask.

She pauses, blinks. "Well, actually, now that you mention it, I should be able to get all of us in. Your inner circle does comprise of the majority of the Inquisition forces." She then nods. "You know… Go head and invite anyone that wants to come."

That's what I do for the rest of the day. I go to everyone, invite them to come. Even Sera agrees, saying it'll be fun to "stick it to the nobles."

Josephine arranges for two carriages to take us all together versus us all riding horseback. Her main excuse is that she wants to use that extra time to drill me, make sure I'm really, truly ready.

We all pile in, bags tossed in the back. I squeeze in between Dorian and Solas, lean on Solas's shoulder as the carriage starts moving. This relaxes me some. It's really the first time in the last couple weeks I've even seen Solas, let alone touch him.

Leliana hands me one last pile of papers a couple hours in.

"Read this," she mutters. "Before we get there."

"What is it?"

"A report. Something that may…change your mind about certain things."

* * *

**I know, I know. I do totally and completely understand the purpose of the outfits the Inquisition wears to the Masquerade, but I wanted to put my Inky in a dress. Yes, she's technically a military leader and should show as much, but I wanted to dress her up. She doesn't get that chance very often you know :)**


	32. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

32 - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

The dress feels tighter than it had when I'd first tried it on. Is it because of the nerves? Or is it because of the churning in my stomach at what I had read in that report Leliana gave me?

Empress Celene…she had murdered so many of my elven brothers and sisters. Crushed them in order to stop the elven rebellion. This was not something I knew about. My clan had been deep in the woods of the Free Marches when it happened. Word of the attack, and the rebellion in Halamshiral, had never reached us.

My stomach burns with the knowledge. This woman, this _ruler_ of Orlais…

I shake my head, clear it. I need to focus. I need to get my head into the Game, so we survive the night's dealings.

Josephine sends in servants who intricately tie up my hair in delicate twists and curls. They paint my eyes, my cheeks, my lips. My vallaslin, thank Mythal, is left alone.

By the time they're done, I feel like a completely different person. The elf that stares back at me in the mirror is a strange combination of a proud Dalish and flat-ear raised in the upper echelons of court. Her head is held up, chin high, hands clasped in front of her like Josephine had demonstrated. Her blue eyes are bright, surrounded by dark and thick eyelashes, cheeks rosy, lips a deep red. Hair cascades around her face, framing it like the vallaslin branching around her eyes. The dress hugs her in all the right places, the gold chain around her neck drawing the eye.

I take a deep breath. I push my shoulders back, grasp my fingers tightly.

Josephine and Leliana walk in. Both of them are wearing striking dresses. Leliana's is a dusty pink, Josephine's a glittering gold and red. Across both of their chests lay a blue sash, pinned with delicate badges showing their affiliation with the Inquisition. Leliana holds a third one and drapes it across my shoulders.

"To show who you are and what you represent," she says, pointing to the pin of the Inquisition, situated near my collarbone. "This way, no one will be able to mistake you for a simple elf."

The blue of the sash is just different enough of a color that it stands out against my dress.

"Are you ready?" Josephine asks.

"As ready as I possibly can be," I say.

"Then come," Leliana says, waving at me to follow. "The others wait for us."

I follow close behind them, breathing deeply to keep my nerves calm.

Everyone is already waiting outside the villa we're all staying in while here. They're huddled around the carriages, talking amongst themselves. The men all wear various versions of the same formal military wear: red, gold buttons, blue sashes just like the one I wear. For a brief moment I wonder why I don't wear the same uniform. The Inquisition is a military force, no? But then I remember why, reminded by how tightly the dress hugs my figure.

Cassandra and Sera are the only women who wear the same uniform. Vivienne wears a dress as well, cut low like always, mask with horns covering most of her head and face. All of them turn when the door closes behind us.

My neck burns as everyone stares at me.

"Well, shit," Varric says, grinning. "You clean up nicely."

"As do you," I say, inclining my head.

"Looking good, boss," Iron Bull says, nodding his head so his horns dip down.

Dorian just preens his mustache, waggling his eyebrows at me.

The last person whose eye I catch is Solas. His eyes burn in a way that makes me quickly look away, fearing it will make my cheeks flush.

Josephine turns to all of us. "The Grand Duke is only too happy to have us at the ball as his guests, so our invitation comes from him. Whether we act as his allies, or upset the balance of power, he gains an opportunity… If not a clear advantage."

All of us nod.

"Do any of us, aside from Enchanter Vivienne of course, get masks?" I ask. "That seems to be a popular fashion choice for those playing the Game."

Leliana shakes her head. "No. We want the Inquisition to be known."

Josephine turns to all of us again. "I must warn you before we go. How you speak to the court is a matter of life and death. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness."

"Don't they sound delightful," I say, smiling. "I'm shocked we haven't invited the court to dinner at Skyhold."

Vivienne gives an approving smile. "I have a feeling you'll do quite well for yourself there," she says. "They love humor, and sexuality. You ooze both, my dear."

I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.

"The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death," Josephine continues. "You must never reveal your cards." She turns to me specifically. "When you meet the Empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you." She sighs. "You were safer staring down Corypheus."

I look out at all my friends gathered around me. "Hear that? Sera? Cole?"

Sera waves her hand in dismissal. "Ah, pish."

Cole says nothing. I'm not even entirely sure he was paying attention.

Josephine takes a deep breath. She shakes subtly. "Everything will be fine."

As we all pile into the carriages, I hear her mutter under her breath, "Andraste watch over us all."

* * *

The palace is massive, stretching so far on either side that I cannot see where it ends. The front gate is elaborate, overdone in my opinion.

Everyone else goes out first. I'm to be the last to walk through the gates, to make an impression. Solas quickly squeezes my hand before climbing out and disappearing.

Josephine and Leliana walk in front of me, along with a few Inquisition soldiers. They open the gate for us.

The courtyard is vast. Bodies are spread out in droves in the area, talking, observing. A great fountain stands in the very middle. Just beyond it, the stairs leading up to the front doors spiral inward. I cannot see any of my friends, nor Cullen. Only Josephine and Leliana stay near.

A man approaches us as we walk in. He's wearing elaborate armor, lined with thick fur around his neck. A golden mask hides the upper half of his face. Josephine glances at me, nodding.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan," Duke Gaspard says, opening his arms wide. "Bringing the rebel mages into the ranks of your army was a brilliant move. Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!"

I smile, inclining my head. "And which one _was_ the rightful one, again? I keep getting them confused."

He laughs a deep, throaty laugh. "The handsome, charming one of course, my lady." He bows, one arm crossed over his chest, the other behind his back. "I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I'll help you."

He turns, walking toward the elaborately glowing fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

"My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age."

It's strange, how easily the smile comes to my face, how easily the words flow from my mouth. "I can't imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in their entire lives."

I can tell by the small smile on his face that he's impressed. "You're a woman after my own heart, my lady. As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening."

I don't answer, holding my gaze.

"This elven woman Briala—I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these 'Ambassadors' all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes."

I narrow my eyes slightly. "Tell me there's more to your suspicion than 'the elves were acting dodgy.'"

He shifts on his feet. "That 'Ambassador,' Briala, used to be a servant of Celene's. That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the Empire to cover up a political mistake. If anyone in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it's that elf. She certainly has reason." He sighs, shaking his head. "Be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains." He then looks around, bows to me again. "We're keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor. Shall we?"

I watch him leave and walk toward the front gates of the palace. I take another deep breath, careful to keep my face composed and calm. The people loitering out in the courtyard watch me too closely for me to show signs of weakness. They already watch me more than the other guests, eyeing my vallaslin and ears with distaste.

My three advisors are already gone. My friends gone as well. I stand alone. I quickly grasp my hands together and make my way toward the gates, holding my head high and chin up.

As I walk, I do as Leliana had instructed. I listen as I move, catching bits of conversations floating over to me, holding onto any and all information that may be useful. Both her and Josephine had warned me just how much gossip gets traded so blatantly out here in the open, but I'm still slightly surprised how much. All these secrets, scandals, being traded like coin. I memorize every word, every rumor that passes.

And I haven't even gotten inside yet.

I walk forward, up the stairs, through the front door, all the while holding my head high, keeping my feet steady.

Inside, the hall shoots upwards. I follow the stairs to a grand entrance hall. The balcony wraps around either side of me, where it meets behind me and leads to more stairs. More people are gathered here as well, standing along the railing, looking down as I walk up the stairs. There's a giant door in front of me, ones to both my left and right. I spot Cullen and Cassandra standing to my left, waiting for me to go into the ballroom. Duke Gaspard stands next to the large door straight head. He bows to me, inclines his head and extends his arm. I take it.

We walk through the doors together.

The dance floor is the center of the room. The floor wraps around it, looking down at the huge dance floor below. Duke Gaspard leads us to a man standing just inside the door. Leliana appears and hands him a long piece of parchment. He nods to us, unrolls it as we start walking toward where the stairs lead down to the dance floor.

The man speaks, yelling for all the room to hear as he reads our introductions.

"And now, presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard De Chalons."

He lets go of my hand, bows deeply to the room before walking down the last set of stairs.

"And accompanying him… Lady Inquisitor Lavellan!"

I look across the room. Above us, Empress Celene appears. She wears a grand blue silk ballgown, adorned with golden wings to match her golden mask. I cannot make out much detail of her features from this far away. I quickly bow, bending my knees and nodding my head. She does the same.

I take a deep breath, dare a glance behind me. My three advisors stand off to the side, waiting for their introductions. My friends all stand in a line above, waiting their turns as well. I then hold my head up, slowly start to walk across the ballroom to where the Empress stands waiting.

The announcer continues my introduction. "Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the mage underground! Champion of the blessed Andraste herself!"

I hear Varric mutter behind and above me, "This guy writes better fiction than I do."

"Accompanying the Inquisitor: Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—"

"Get on with it!" Cassandra yells.

He hesitates for a moment. "…Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine."

Cassandra joins the walk across the room.

"Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, mistress of the Duke of Ghislain."

Vivienne walks with confidence. There's no doubt she's done this countless times.

"Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, constable of the Grey. Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor."

Blackwall looks slightly uncomfortable.

"The lady Inquisitor's elven serving man, Solas."

I almost trip, barely stop myself from glaring at whoever gave him that introduction. Solas merely smiles, taking the title with pride.

"Her Ladyship Mai Bhalsych of Korse."

Sera barely contains her laughter. I groan internally, remind myself to keep a straight face.

"Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble house Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarves Merchants Guild."

Varric huffs, stocks his way across the room.

"Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel."

Dorian flourishes in a deep bow before moving forward.

"The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company Bull's Chargers. As the name might imply."

Surprisingly, Iron Bull holds himself with dignity to walk across, ignoring the gasps from the guests at the sight of him.

"Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall."

At this, I stop watching over my shoulder, move with more confidence across the room.

"Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine. Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Ambassador of the Inquisition."

Duke Gaspard and I reach the landing just below the Empress. Another woman has joined her, wearing the same mask, donning a gown of creme and green.

"Cousin," Gaspard says, bending at the waist. "My dear sister."

"Grand Duke," Empress Celene says. Her voice is delicate. "We are always honored when your presence graces our court." She bends her knee, bowing without moving her upper body.

"Don't waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude."

"We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests."

The Duke waves his arms out to the side, bends into a deep bow. He then looks at me. "Inquisitor."

I ignore him as he walks away, instead looking back at the Empress.

"Lady Inquisitor," she says, reaching up to smooth back her tightly braided white-blonde hair. "We welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible."

The woman next to her bows. She has the same color hair, cropped into a severe undercut. Her face is harder, holds more lines than the Empress.

"What an unexpected pleasure," the Duchess says. "I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities." She smiles, turns to the side as she starts to back away. "We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor."

The Empress grabs my attention. "Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer's day."

"Let's hope the breeze does not herald an oncoming storm," I say.

She smiles. "Even the wisest mistake fair winds for foul. We are at the mercy of the skies, Inquisitor." She pauses, tilting her head. "How do you find Halamshiral?"

_It was our city once_, I almost say. Instead, I smile and gesture to the palace around me. "I have no words to suffice. Halamshiral has many beauties, and I couldn't do them justice."

"Your modesty does you credit, and speaks well for the Inquisition." She waves one of her hands toward the room. "Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance."

I bend a knee, bow as deep as I dare. I then walk up the small set of stairs to my left. Leliana waits for me at the top. Her smile shows her confidence in me and my reactions so far.

"Inquisitor. A word, when you have a moment."

I nod at her when she walks away, back toward the first room.

I take a moment to walk around the balcony that surrounds the dance floor. I spot Josephine there, talking with a young woman who turns out to be her youngest sister. We chat for a few minutes and I move on, making sure to try to make the best impression on the nobles there. I find Cullen, surrounded by both men and woman fawning over him, which makes him extremely uncomfortable. Sera is there as well, watching the people interact with a smug smile on her face, muttering under her breath all the little things she's noticed about them. All the while, I listen to gossip, listen for anything out of the ordinary that might point us toward the would-be assassin.

Finally, after walking around the room twice for appearances, I walk back toward the entrance hall, which I realize is called the Vestibule via a small plaque next to the door.

Leliana greets me. "Good. I was hoping I would catch you. What did the Duke say?"

"He points the finger at Ambassador Briala."

Leliana's eyebrows furrow. "The Ambassador is up to something, but she can't be our focus. The best place to strike Celene is from her side."

I follow Leliana to one of the small couches lining the room. We both sit and I take the moment to breathe and rest my aching feet.

"Empress Celene is fascinated by mysticism—foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish. She has an 'occult advisor.' An apostate who charmed the Empress and key members of the court as if by magic." She frowns. "I've had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless and capable of anything."

"How can Celene openly keep an apostate in the Imperial Court?"

"The Imperial Court has always had an official position for a mage. Before now, it was little better than court jester. Vivienne was the first to turn that appointment into a source of real political power. When the Circles rebelled, technically every mage became an apostate. The word lost much of its strength."

I hesitate. "You think she's controlling the minds of the court? That's powerful blood magic."

"She's worth investigating. Can't be sure of anything here. Both leads point toward the guest wing." She gestures to one of the side passages next to where we sit. "It's a promising place to start. I'll coordinate with our spies to see if I can find anything better. I will be in the ballroom if you need me."

She leaves. I don't get up right away. I wave at Cassandra, who leans against one of the pillars next to the stairs leading down and out with a scowl on her face. I listen to the gossip around me, as always, while I rest. Finally, I get up and walk through the door Leliana had mentioned.

This hallway is full of statues. The Hall of Heroes, per the plaque. I keep going through, eavesdrop on some elven servants who mutter about a package. I take note and keep moving through the hall into the next room.

Solas stands here, leaning against a statue with a smile smile on his face. He looks calm, calmer than I expect surrounded by all these nobles. He sees me and inclines his head, raising the glass in his hand.

"I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events," he says, voice light.

I smirk, ignoring the blush spreading up my neck to my cheeks. "You seem more comfortable with a grand Orlesian Ball than I'd have expected."

He smiles. "As do you. You blend in well. But, I have seen countless such displays in my journeys in the Fade. The powerful have always been the same. Only the costumes change."

"Have the nobles treated you well?"

"The Orlesians do not quite know what to make of me. I have kept to myself, for fear of giving them some purchase to cling to. The food and drink are excellent, however, and the servants have been happy to refill my glass." He holds his drink up, takes a sip. This makes me laugh.

"Have you seen anything useful?" I ask after I've recomposed myself.

"No, sadly. I do not have the look of one of the elven servants, or I might well be invisible. I wonder how masked men live their lives without ever seeing that servants have an entire society of their own? If you want to find something useful, I would pay attention to what the servants do."

Just like Leliana had suggested. Has he done this before?

I take a step closer to him. "Do you have any interest in dancing?"

His smile is mischievous. "A great deal… Although dancing with an elven apostate would win you few favors with the court. Perhaps once our business here is done?"

"I'll hold you to that," I say, inclining my head as I walk away.

He raises his glass again. "Hunt well!"

* * *

**I know I'm probably in the minority here on this, but I really liked WEWH. It's by far one of my favorite missions in the game. I even liked the ****whole building court appreciation as well. It gave a sense of urgency, like you need to find this assassin ASAP or you'll fail. It was a nice look at how the Game works in Thedas, and how easily you can go wrong.**

**Also, court Solas anyone? I know you only really get this one conversation with him (until everything's done of course), but I feel this one conversation says so much about him. He's so...free, with not a care in the world.**


	33. Yours and Mine

33 - Yours and Mine

The night drags on what seems forever. The palace is thick with scandal and treason. All three involved in the peace talks have committed many crimes in order to keep the others from gaining power. I had even found a guard tied naked to Celene's bed and freed him. So far, everyone had been right about the sex at these events. The palace reeks of it.

After hours of searching the castle for clues, I learn that Duchess Florianne—Gaspard's sister, whom I had met along with the Empress—is the assassin. She sets a trap for us, keeping us preoccupied while she heads back to kill the Empress. By the time we get back, it's too late, and Celene lies dead at the head of the ballroom. My stomach drops deep into my being when I see her lying on the floor, but I hold it back and stand behind Gaspard as he takes his crown.

Finally, deep into the night, I stand out on the balcony just off the ballroom, relaxing for the first time in hours.

"Here at last I find our absent hero, hidden away despite the efforts of all Orlais to find you."

I turn, find Lady Morrigan standing next to the door. She was the "occult advisor" Leliana had told me about. Another veteran of the Fifth Blight. She's a crass woman, with starkly black hair, pale skin, and strange amber eyes that seem to glow from within.

"The elves raise glasses in your honor while the newly crowned Emperor glowers. 'Tis quite the spectacle."

I sigh. "That's what I do. Fall out of the sky, make bad decisions…yet somehow, everyone still follows me."

She laughs. "So they do. Seems I am also to join that esteemed crowd." She hesitates, shifting on her feet. "By Imperial Decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Gaspard wishes to offer any and all aid to the one to supported his ascent to the throne. So…here I am."

"I had no idea you were interested in joining the Inquisition," I say.

"The assignment has been given to me, regardless of my personal interest. Gaspard never liked my attendance at court. He wishes me as far from here as possible. Mayhap he feels the Inquisition a convenient repository for unwanted apostates? I cannot say. Regardless, Corypheus is a threat to Orlais…and to myself. Thus I am not opposed to the appointment."

I smile at her. "What knowledge do you have that would benefit us?"

"I have knowledge which falls…" She pauses, looking around the balcony. "Beyond the realm of most mages. I suspect this is also true of Corypheus. Thus it behooves you to add to your arcane arsenal, yes?" She drops her head, smiling at her feet. "Mundane knowledge will not bring the rift in the sky to a close, after all."

"When you say 'knowledge beyond the realm of most mages,' do you mean blood magic?"

"I know many obscure, forgotten, and forbidden arts. Some of it you might consider blood magic, yes. Should thought of that frighten you, allow me to offer reassurance. Knowledge alone does no harm. What I possess I place at your disposal, to make use of or ignore as you desire."

I can't help but think that her words remind me of Solas's conversation about blood magic in the Hinterlands. I incline my head at her. "Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan."

"A most gracious response." She finally smiles what looks to be her first true one of the night. "I shall meet you at Skyhold."

I sigh, turn away from her to lean back against the railing. I hear someone else approaching behind me and groan.

"I'm not surprised to find you out here."

I breathe in relief. It's just Solas.

"Thoughts?" he asks, tilting his head.

"We achieved all our goals. I'm enjoying a moment of peace while it lasts."

He laughs. "You should. They're fleeting enough. Hang onto them when you can."

I lean into his hand on my back, closing my eyes.

"Come!" he suddenly says, taking a few steps back. "Before the band stops playing, dance with me." He holds out his hand, his back lightly bowed forward.

I smile, placing my hand in his. "I'd love to."

He pulls me toward him, spins me in a wide but smooth circle. I'm suddenly glad for the lessons Josephine and Leliana had forced on me. He is quite the dancer, his feet light against the floor as he twirls and dips me.

While no one is looking, I press my lips to his. He stops spinning me, slips his arms around me to hold me just a moment longer against him.

Court life suits him. He's so much more open, more free here. Just what kind of memories did he linger in when in the Fade? I can't help but wonder if he spent more time watching "court intrigue" than he would ever admit out loud.

And, I add to myself, I quite enjoy it too.

* * *

All of us pile back into the manor where we're staying. It belongs to a noble who owed Leliana some sort of favor and is large enough for all of us to have our own room. I'm the last to pile through the front doors, having been kept up by the advisors to congratulate me on my performance.

I sigh in relief, tearing off my shoes after I walk through my bedroom door. Something dark moves in the corner of my room, making me pause. My heart races as I go still, watching the corner with suspicion. Finally, I reach down and wave my hand over my lantern, flames flickering to life under my fingers and lighting the entire room.

Instantly I see what had moved. I jump, gasping as Solas smiles at me from the far corner.

"You did quite well," he says.

I sigh, stilling my heart. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."

"There are spirits hovering by the Veil to observe the thrones of powerful nations. The machinations, betrayals… After our time here, I understand why. I had forgotten how I missed court intrigue."

My suspicions _were_ right. He _had_ spent time in court. "You miss court intrigue? When were you at court?"

For a moment, he stumbles, his mouth moving wordlessly. "Oh. Well, never…directly, of course."

I say nothing, surprised at his posture change. A twinge of something sparks in my chest. Doubt?

"An elven apostle is rarely invited to speak with empresses and kings. But, from the Fade, I have watched dynasties form and empires crumble. It is sometimes savage, sometimes noble. And always fascinating." He smiles mischievously.

That spark of whatever is gone. "Well, I'm pleased you had a good time."

"Political gambits, broken promises, half-truths? It is a palace full of motivation. And motivation is where great things happen."

I laugh as I cross the room. "I _did_ enjoy myself as well. It was fascinating." I then clear my throat. "May I ask what you're doing in my room?"

Again, he stumbles over his words. "I…well… I desired to see you."

His eyes roam over me, head to toe. There's a look in them that makes me go still. His gaze pierces into mine, heavy, dark. I can feel my heart starting to race, my stomach pull.

He closes the distance between us, faster than I anticipate. He reaches up, touching my face, angling it upward. His lips press gently to mine, making my head spin.

Oh. _This_ is why he's here.

I lean into him. His mouth starts to move faster, more eager against me. His hands slip around my waist, fingers wrapping around my sides, pulling me toward him, holding me close. They linger on the bare patch of skin on my back. I twitch under his touch.

He suddenly picks me up, making me giggle. His lips don't leave mine as he carries me across the room, not even when I laugh.

Something soft is suddenly underneath me. I emerge for a moment as his lips trail down my neck, look around. The adrenaline of the night fuels us both and I know this is part of what drives him. I hesitate for a moment, trying to think past the burning in my body, past his lips now pressing against mine. He must feel my body stiffen under his because he suddenly stops, sitting up to look at me.

His eyes blaze with a desire that makes me tremble. I watch him war with it, pushing it back. I take that moment to breathe, gather my courage. Then I reach down, slowly start to pull at the buttons of his uniform.

Relief floods his face. His hands pulling at my dress are sure, confident in their movements.

My heart races faster the longer we move, beating harder each time one of our garments falls to the floor. The burning in my body is so intense I feel I'm sure I'm going to explode.

Despite the eagerness of his lips, his hands…he's gentle, moving slowly. His fingers trail across my skin, setting me on fire and driving me insane. He doesn't do anything without first looking into my eyes to make sure there is no doubt, no regret in my gaze.

We create our own rhythm, the world around us gone. Nothing matters anymore but this, the way we fit together so perfectly.

Our rhythm finally comes to an end. We lay for a moment, chests heaving, skin tingling. He pulls me toward him, kisses my forehead.

"I am yours," he mutters, lips moving across my skin. "And you are mine."

* * *

I'm alone the next morning, though the place he had been is still warm. I stretch before sitting up to look around the room. The balcony door is open. Quietly, I dress and walk toward where the door stands ajar.

The look on Solas's face says that he doesn't know I'm awake yet. There is such a deep and dark sadness in his eyes that I feel my stomach fall. I hesitate in the doorway.

Does he regret making love to me?

He seems to notice me, then. The sadness is gone the moment he sees me standing there.

"Good morning," I whisper.

He smiles so wide his eyes close. "It is a much better morning than merely 'good,' would you not agree?"

I twist my hands in front of me. His face starts to fall.

"Does something trouble you, vhenan?"

"I…you just looked so sad a moment ago. I thought, maybe…"

His brows furrow as he stares at me for a few moments. His eyes then soften. "Ah. I was just deep in thought. Nothing more."

"Oh. I just… I thought… Maybe—"

He takes my hand, pulls me toward him. "Hush." He smiles, wraps his arms around me. "You…have no idea how much this means to me. It has…been a long time since…"

I laugh. "Oh, please don't start telling me about your past lovers. I might get jealous."

"And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

I shake my head. "Considering your list is probably much longer than mine."

His eyes narrow slightly. "I was not…?"

"Oh, of course not!" I laugh. "There was one other. A boy in my clan. He…stopped courting me afterwards." I frown. "I don't think he ever actually wanted to be with me."

He chuckles. "Well, I have no plans of leaving you."

I just smile at him.


	34. The Box and the Boy

**So this was something I forgot to mention at the end of the last chapter. I had originally written their love scene earlier (after her clan is killed off), but after rereading through, it felt wrong, not only for my OC but for Solas as well. Taking advantage of grief like that. So I moved it to right after the ball, when naturally inhibitions would be impaired. It felt a lot more natural for both characters and I like how it turned out. Glad you did as well!**

* * *

34 - The Box and the Boy

"The matter is urgent, Lady Josephine."

The Revered Mother who argues with Josephine in the courtyard back at Skyhold scowls, throwing her arms into the air.

"I am well aware of that, Revered Mother," Josephine replies.

"We will need them to return to Val Royeaux as soon as possible. There are ceremonies—ordinations!" The Mother sighs, rubbing her forehead. "Maker's mercy!"

Josephine shakes her head. "That's quite impossible at the moment. However, I will see to this matter as soon as possible."

The Mother turns to me as I reach them. "My Lady Inquisitor! Please, may I have a word with you?"

I place a hand on Josephine's shoulder. "How may I assist you, Revered Mother?"

"With the political turmoil put to rest, our minds turn to a single question: the next Divine. We cannot answer it without the Left and Right Hands of Divine Justinia V."

Josephine sighs. "I have already told you, Revered Mother: Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra cannot be spared from their duties."

"But surely with the support of the Empire, the Inquisition will not be harmed by the loss of just two souls?"

Two very important souls, I think to myself. "Why do you need Leliana and Cassandra?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

"They were her Holiness's most trusted advisors. They represent her legacy, her hopes for peace in Thedas. They could rally the Grand Clerics to follow as no candidate from the clergy has been able to."

I raise my eyebrows. "Are the Grand Clerics truly unable to elect a Divine?"

"Everyone with the political support to succeed Justinia perished alongside her. Those who remain are unable to gather the majority of votes from the Conclave of Grand Clerics. They have been deadlocked for too long. Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra were Justinia's most trusted friends and advisors." She pauses, her face falling. "Our late Divine is still held in high esteem. To honor her, the Grand Clerics might support one of them as successor."

This makes my eyes widen. "How long does the Chantry need them?"

"Several months at least. If one of them is crowned Divine, she would not be returning to the Inquisition."

I swallow. I can't imagine either one of them leaving for that long. "Leliana and Cassandra would have to make that decision for themselves."

Josephine nods. "And they certainly will. At a later date." She points to me. "The Inquisitor has only just returned and has important business to attend to. You must excuse us, Revered Mother."

The Mother glances at me, her eyes narrowing. She finally sighs, bowing her head slightly before turning and leaving.

"Don't let them detract from your victory at Halamshiral," Josephine says, her eyes hard as she watches the Mother walk away. "Now that the political situation has stabilized, we can devote more Inquisition resources to pursuing Corypheus. I would talk to Hawke. Soon." She then inclines her head at me before making her way up the stairs to the castle.

I sigh, throwing my head back for a moment before making my way across the courtyard. I figure it might be a good idea to let Cassandra and Leliana both know what's going on. I move past the dummies, toward the blacksmith's. Immediately, I hear Mother Giselle's voice coming from inside.

"Will you not consider it, Lady Cassandra? The Clerics are still sequestered. If no one steps forward, they will debate until—"

"And you think _I _could make them agree?"

They both turn when they see me walk in.

Cassandra sighs. "I've heard enough for one day, Mother Giselle."

Mother Giselle stops next to me on her way out. "Talk to her, Your Worship."

I watch her leave, not speaking until she's well out of earshot. "The fun never ends in Skyhold, does it?"

Cassandra smiles. "'The Inquisitor was _hilarious_.' That's what they'll say one day, you watch." She laughs but then her face hardens, turns serious. "I assume you've heard that Leliana and I are both candidates to be the next Divine."

I cross my arms, nodding.

"Because of what happened at Halamshiral, of course. The Empire favors you, thus everyone close to you." She sighs. "So now the Chantry bandies our names about without even asking us first."

"How can you and Leliana be candidates? You're not even priests."

"It is not without precedent. Amara the Third was sister to the Emperor, and Galatea a commoner. Leliana and I were, at least, part of the Chantry hierarchy. It would be accepted."

"If you don't want it, then tell them so."

She stares at me for a moment, silent. She turns, heading toward the door leading out. I follow, not saying a word. "Surely it was never meant to be like this. The Chantry, the Circle of Magi, the Templars… This cannot be what they intended when it all began." Cassandra finally stops walking, turning toward me. "The Chantry should provide faith. _Hope_. Instead, it cannot veer from its course, even in the face of certain death."

"I'm surprised to hear you, of all people, say that."

She raises her eyebrows. "Oh? Am I not the same woman who declared the Inquisition against the Chantry's wishes? In all my years as a Seeker, I did what I was told. My faith demanded it. But now my faith demands something else: that I see with better eyes."

"If you're concerned, then make it better."

She's quiet for a moment, fidgeting with her hands as she looks out over the courtyard. "Did you know Varric is Andrastian?"

I raise my eyebrows.

"Oh, he blasphemes with every second breath, but deep down, he believes. His heart is virtuous. But he would never step foot in a Chantry. It should be the first place to which the virtuous turn." Her eyes narrow with determination. "It needs to change. Perhaps I must be the one to change it."

I hesitate. "You're not the only candidate. What about Leliana?"

"Leliana says she wishes to follow Justinia's legacy, but she and I remember a different person. Justinia knew her fellow Clerics—and the people—would only accept so much change. Leliana would cast it all aside and start over, I think, and that would be chaos for us all."

"Then what would you change about the Chantry?"

She answers without hesitation, as if she's thought of this question many times. "The Circle of Magi has its place, but it needs reform. Let the mages govern themselves, with our help. Let the Templars stand not as the jailors of mages, but as protectors of the innocent. We must be vigilant, but we must also be compassionate to all peoples of Thedas, human or no." She squares off her shoulders. "_That_ is what I would change."

I laugh. "So this is your new crusade?"

She smiles despite the hardness to her eyes. "I've agreed to nothing yet."

"And if the Chantry calls on you?"

"Then I will do whatever I can, for as long as I can." Her posture softens. "I suppose I should not be so concerned. The Clerics speak my name for now, nothing more. For now, restoring order and stopping Corypheus reman our priority."

I next go to Leliana, find her in the rookery as always, staring at a small statue of Andraste.

"So it's true. Some look to Cassandra or even me as Justinia's successor. I never thought the idea would gain momentum. Of course, with the other candidates out of the picture…" She turns to me.

"Is becoming Divine something you really want?"

She laughs, raising one eyebrow. "When Justinia was alive, I would've laughed at anyone who even suggested that I could be her successor. Things have changed." She pauses, sighs under her breath. "Still, I don't know. Restoring the Chantry will be like trying to steer a sinking vessel through a storm." She looks away from me then, staring back at the statue.

"Whoever becomes Divine will have my support if she requires it."

"And I'm sure whoever becomes Divine will absolutely require the Inquisition's backing. The Chantry is faltering, but it still has influence over the people." She shakes her head. "Who tells the people what's right? Who do they look to in times of peril? A Divine with enough support can change the Chantry, and with it, Thedas." She turns to me, bowing her head. "But this is a discussion for later. If Corypheus wins, finding a new Divine will be the least of our problems."

I sit down at the desk where she usually works. "Okay. So, then what do you know of Morrigan."

"She's changed. She used to be so…disagreeable. Cruel. She said things just to hurt people. Now the sharp edges have worn away. Perhaps it was Kieran."

"Kieran?" I ask.

"Her son. He seems so normal, like any other little boy. And so polite. Not that I was expecting anything else. I mean…" She sighs. "Never mind."

Morrigan has a son? I hadn't heard of this. Was he, perhaps, here at Skyhold? I hadn't seen either her nor him. "I'll leave you to your work," I say, standing up.

Leliana inclines her head. "Inquisitor."

* * *

It takes a few days before Josephine calls to me and says that I have another person to judge as Inquisitor. I reluctantly make my way down to the throne, watching the people pile into the great hall to watch.

Josephine walks up, her posture stiff. "First, this wasn't my idea. It is an issue born of titles and heir apparency and…" She sighs, her voice trialing off as Inquisition soldiers march into the room carrying…a box.

I look at her with my eyebrows raised. She just shakes her head and looks back at the box sitting at the feet of the two soldiers.

"Halamshiral is having difficulty freeing trade routes formerly controlled by Duchess Florianne." There's a hint of a smile on her face now, behind the annoyance in her eyes. "Had she been tried, her assets would be forfeit and considerable bureaucracy avoided. So…they ask that we…judge her."

I laugh. "Are you serious? I did my part—she's dead!"

Silence seeps through the hall. It's so deep I can hear the flies buzzing inside the box.

Josephine sighs. "That was the time allotted for rebuttal. Her crimes negated any claim to…" She coughs then clears her throat. "Forgive me, there is an odor."

It had hit me too, and I involuntarily gag, failing to cover my mouth with my hand.

I shift in my seat, leaning forward. I'm suddenly glad for all the research both Leliana and Josephine had thrust on me before heading to the Winter Palace. "Strangely enough, something similar happened to an uncle of Emperor Leandre the Second. His trade routes were returned to the reigning monarch. Why don't we just follow suit?"

Josephine smiles, a small laugh slipping through her lips. "A wise choice! Thank you for making it swiftly."

The soldiers take the box and remove it from the room.

The smell still lingers.

I immediately leave for the gardens, wanting to clear my nose of the rotting left in my sinuses. It's when I'm bent over the small well that I hear someone come up behind me.

"You're the Inquisitor."

I jump, turn around.

A young boy stands behind me. He has a cute face, freckly and youthful. His brown hair is slicked back. His clothes tell of someone raised with utmost care.

He shakes his head. "Mother never told me the Inquisitor was an elf."

I kneel down so my eyes are level with his. "The ears gave me away, didn't they?"

He shakes his head again. "No. Your blood is _very_ old. I saw it right away."

I start. What does that mean, my blood is old?

"Kieran. Are you bothering the Inquisitor?"

Morrigan walks into view then. She no longer wears her elaborate red velvet gown. Instead, she wears something that speaks more to her personality: wild, showing a lot of skin, jewelry bouncing against her collarbone.

"Of course not." Kieran lifts his hands. "Did you _see_ what's on her hand, Mother?" His voice goes high, full of excitement.

"I did see. 'Tis time to return to your studies, little man."

He sighs deeply, his body slumping forward. But he doesn't protest, turning to me to smile before leaving.

Morrigan chuckles once he's out of earshot. "My son. Never where you expect him to be, naturally."

"I didn't know you had a son."

She shrugs. "Why would you? I take great pains to not let my own reputation affect him in any way. To most in the Imperial Court, he is simply a quiet and well-spoken lad. Perhaps the heir of some distant family. But he goes where I go. Worry not, Inquisitor—Kieran is a curious boy, but seldom troublesome."

I look toward where he had disappeared. "Will his father be joining us as well?"

"I have raised Kieran on my own for quite some time now, as was my preference from the start. So 'tis but the two of us, Inquisitor. Your fortress is a large place, and you will scarce notice our presence."

"He seems like a fine young man."

"But not the sort one might expect a woman like me to raise?" She smiles, raising her eyebrows. "No son of mine would be raised in a marsh, bereft of contact with the outside world. His future will be difficult enough without my adding to his burden." She takes a moment to look around at the walls surrounding the gardens. "To think, until recently this place stood decrepit, occupied only by the desperate and the lost. Now it is party to events that threaten to shake the world. I wonder if it is pleased?"

I take a seat on the edge of the well behind me. "It sounds like you've heard of Skyhold before."

"This fortress was built upon the remains of a site holy to the ancient elves. They called it Tarasyl'an: 'the place where the sky is kept.' It is said that from here, they reached up to the heavens to bring them down to rest. They abandoned it, as did the humans who came after them. Bones laid upon bones, silent until your arrival."

I know all this, per Solas and our late-night conversations. "I like this place. I've made it mine. We were lucky to have found it when we did."

"Fate is often mistaken for luck, as Mother is fond of saying. The magic in this place has seeped into the stones, protecting it from darkness. Those who let it fall to ruin did not know what they possessed. You, I think, shall do it justice." She smiles. She really is rather handsome when she smiles. It brightens her face. "You were kind to welcome my aid, Inquisitor, even knowing as little of me as you do. I will do my best to aid your cause with all the knowledge at my disposal. This I swear to you."

"I appreciate whatever help you can give us."

"Some might think Corypheus a madman for seeking godhood. Yet one must ask: what _were_ the Old Gods? What secrets of theirs did the ancient Magisters know? What I fear—what all should fear—is not that Corypheus believes he can succeed: 'tis that he actually may."

I shift uncomfortably. "Since you're going to be here for quite some time it seems, may I ask more about you?"

She laughs. "Ah, yes. Whence comes the mystery woman, slinking her way into the Inquisition's ranks? Once I was an apostate, living well away from the banal influence of the Chantry in the Korcari Wilds. Then came the Fifth Blight with its darkspawn, and I left Ferelden for the Empress's court. 'Tis certain the nobles of Orlais breathe a collective sigh of relief that I am now here."

"It's odd that an apostate could live so…openly."

She chuckles under her breath. "It confuses those who expect apostates to cower and hide. I stand boldly before them and demand to know why I need some Chantry mage to teach _me_ to control my power. They would put me on a leash so they can feel safer at night? I am uninterested in their comfort. Naturally, it helps to have friends in high places."

"You were in Ferelden during the Blight?"

"The Blight began in the Korcari Wilds, so yes—I experienced it firsthand. Indeed, I fought at the Hero of Ferelden's side for a time. She is the reason the Blight was defeated. I wish things had gone differently in the end. It had to be, yet… After that, I came to Orlais. The last place one would look for me, or such was my hope."

"What about your son? Tell me more about him."

"He is a very special young man."

"Special in…what way?"

She raises her dark eyebrows. "In every way. At first, Kieran was a means to an end, but as he grew… I never thought of myself as a mother, Inquisitor. I had no good example to follow. I find myself becoming something I can barely recognize."

"Motherhood will do that to you," I mutter.

"To some, yes. Not all."

I look up, seeing the sky is starting to turn dark. "I shall leave you to the gardens."

"Of course."


	35. Crestwood

**Hello everyone! Sorry, I totally spaced letting you guys know that I wasn't going to post last week due to the in-laws coming to visit for my daughter's birthday. We were super busy, moving almost all week. The only left a couple days ago. Needless to say, we were all tired and I'm glad to have my house back :)**

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I know you'll love the end for sure ;)**

* * *

35 - Crestwood

It takes a few weeks to finally hear from Hawke. Once I finally do, all of my companions decide to come, just as when we went to the Exalted Plains. Even Vivienne joins. Ever since I found her a key ingredient for a potion to help her sick lover—Duke Bastien—she has been warmer to me. He had died despite our efforts, but the fact that I went out of my way to hunt a very dangerous beast for her seems to have changed her mind about me. She even invited Bastien's sister—Marcelline—and son—Laurent—to Skyhold to meet me, and give me a current connection into the Council of Heralds. Both of them take to me immediately, despite Vivienne's warning that Marcelline has the temper of an "angry vulture." The ring Vivienne gives me as a gift is something I wear with pride, alongside my sylvanwood ring from my old Keeper.

Crestwood is not far from the Storm Coast and the weather reminds me much of the Fallow Mire. It rains endlessly, lightning dancing behind the clouds. Here and there, I can see bursts of blue sunlight behind the clouds, but it loses the war going on in the sky, shoved back time and time again.

Scout Harding greets us as we reach the outskirts. The look on her face is harsh. "Good to see you safe, Inquisitor. We've got trouble ahead."

"If you're on edge, I should alert the entire Inquisition."

The tenseness to her eyes softens a bit as she smiles. "Or increase my hazard pay. That's an option."

I laugh. "Are things that bad?"

She inclines her head at me, looking toward the vast lake just beyond the reach of the camp. I follow her, looking toward where she gestures. Far out on the other side, a large section of the lake churns and bubbles like boiling water, glowing green.

"Oh," I mutter.

"Crestwood was the site of a flood ten years ago during the Blight. It's not the only rift in the area, but after it appeared, corpses started walking out of the lake. You'll have to fight them to get to the cave where Ser Hawke's Grey Warden friend is hiding."

Great. It _is_ just like the Fallow Mire. Sera will be pleased.

"What is it with Ferelden and the undead?" Blackwall says. "Didn't Redcliffe have the same problem?"

"Have any undead attacked the camp?" I ask.

She lifts one of her shoulders. "We've had a few shamblers, but most head toward the village below. Maybe someone in Crestwood can tell you how to get to the rift in the lake. Maker knows they'll want help." She then crosses her arm over her chest. "Good luck. And please be safe."

Sera walks up just as Harding leaves. "Undead. _Again_?" She groans. "Why is it always the undead? Shite's not right!"

All of us laugh at her.

"All right," I say, turning to the others. "Let's set up for the night. We'll figure out what we're doing in the morning."

* * *

"There must be a way to get to the rift in the lake."

Dorian looks at me. "Perhaps the locals will lend us a boat."

I stare out into the deep water, crossing my arms. Still, the water around the glowing green light beneath the surface churns. As much as I would like to head straight to the cave where Hawke and their Grey Warden waits for us, I cannot bring myself to leave this for later. Too many undead roam the lands. So instead, I had sent Varric along with Cassandra, Vivienne, Sera, and Iron Bull to clear to way to the cave. The rest stay with me to find a way to get rid of this rift.

"Which way was Crestwood, again?" I ask, turning to the friends behind me.

Solas nods his head toward the nearest hill. "That way, I would presume. It is the direction the undead are heading."

"Then let's follow them."

We find two soldiers wearing colors I don't recognize at the top of the hill, guarding a young elven girl.

"It's the Inquisitor!"

"Then Andraste is with us!"

Quickly, we take down the few undead corpses bearing down on them. Once they're gone, I can hear the voices of the three we helped drifting over to us.

"I'd go back to the village, miss. These roads aren't safe," one of the men says.

She leaves, running down the path and to the left.

"Grey Wardens," Blackwall whispers, hanging back a bit.

I pause. Grey Wardens? Here? Did this have anything to do with Hawke's Warden friend?

"The Grey Wardens thank you for your aid, Inquisitor." The man turns to me, nodding his head.

"What are you doing in Crestwood?" I ask.

"Looking for another Warden. Ser Stroud. He's wanted for questioning. If you see him, I'd keep your distance."

My heart drops. "What have you been told about this rogue Warden?"

"Warden-Commander Clarel ordered his capture. I can say no more than that. Maker willing, Stroud will lay down his arms when we meet. I worked under him for a time. Good man."

"Will you stay to fight the undead here?" I ask, motioning toward the corpses that lay motionless on the ground.

"My orders forbid it. Crestwood was only a detour."

The other man speaks up. "Is that all the aid we can offer these people?"

He is ignored. "If the Inquisition can help, I beg you to do what you can. The villagers have already lost too many."

They start to walk away then. My companions all walk over, huddling around me as we watch and listen to what the Wardens whisper amongst themselves.

"Ser, are you sure we can't help the village?"

"Our orders are clear. If we can't find Warden Stroud, we return to the Commander with all haste."

"Still don't feel right."

The sigh is almost unheard over the rain now, their voices starting to drift into the distance. "I know, but if I judge our orders rightly, harder decisions await."

They're gone now, voices too quiet to make out.

"None of those Wardens mentioned a new leader," I mutter. "I don't think they're part of Corypheus's plot to seize the Order." I look at my friends. "I hope Hawke's Warden friend has answers for us."

We keep moving, taking down demons and corpses. Eventually, we run into the elven girl that had been saved by the Grey Wardens in a small house on the outskirts of town. She speaks of wanting to join the Wardens, but after a few words by Solas, she decides to instead work for the Inquisition.

"The Wardens have too much going on right now," I say to her.

The guards outside of Crestwood fight the corpses trying to get through the gates. Already, many bodies lay burning on the ground. I can tell they've been fighting for far too long.

People inside point us toward the Mayor's residence. I try not to listen to the villagers' mutterings. Too long they've been cut off from contact. They're low on food, low on supplies.

"We should have come here ages ago," I whisper to Solas.

He says nothing.

The Mayor opens his door with a gasp. "The Inquisitor?" He steps aside, letting us all walk in to shake off the wet. "Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood Village." He bows. "At your service, despite everything." He motions toward his fireplace. We all crowd around it, warming our hands. "Are you…here to stop the undead?"

Dorian mutters something but I ignore him.

"The undead are appearing because of a rift in the Fade. How can I get to it?"

His eyes narrow. "The light in the lake? It's coming from the caves below Old Crestwood. Darkspawn flooded it ten years ago during the Blight. It wiped out the village, killing the refugees we took in."

I nod toward the door. "I saw a dam. If we use it to drain the lake, I can get to that Fade rift."

He takes a step back, his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. "Drain the—there must be some other way!"

Something is wrong. I can feel it deep within my being. He's too frightened, and of more than the corpses.

"Your people are frightened, and they're tired," Blackwall says. "Let us help."

"You'd have to evict the bandits in the old fort to use the dam. I can't ask you to risk your life."

I sigh. "Trust me, I've fought worse than bandits and the undead."

"Then…" He shakes his head, lets out a deep breath. "Then I have no choice." He walks across the room, to a dresser. He then hands me a key. "This key unlocks the gate to the dam controls past the fort. The rift must be in the caves under Old Crestwood. But Inquisitor… I would not linger there."

All of us continue to question him about the bandits and how the darkspawn had managed to flood Old Crestwood. By the time we leave his house, the look we all share with each other says it all: there's something more behind his fear than he's letting on.

We make our way to Caer Bronach: the fort the Mayor had mentioned. Almost immediately Blackwall notices that they're well defended.

"Archers on the ramparts," he says.

"This won't be easy," I mutter to him.

"No. But it's necessary if we want to drain the lake."

I nod. "Then let's get this done."

It's takes all the rest of the day and all night for us to take the fort. We opt for stealth, sneaking up on the groups of bandits scattered around the fort. Cole is the driving force behind our stealth, due to his powers to flit in and out of existence as a spirit.

"We shouldn't let this place go to waste," Blackwall suggests once all the bandits are dead. "The Inquisition could put this to good use."

I find a flagpole at the top of the fort. I light a signal, and within the hour some of the Inquisition scouts come, hang a flag to show our claim on the place.

"It'll take a few days for us to take this place fully, Inquisitor," one of them says to me. "I'll send word to the Nightingale to send more of her people here."

"Good," I say. "We need access to that dam, over there." I point. "Do you think you could work on taking it?"

"Of course, Your Worship."

I turn to my friends. "I'll send word to the rest. We should sleep."

* * *

"Hawke's Warden friend should be in that cave," Solas says as we near the spot on the map Hawke had sent us. He gestures to a small alcove in the mountainside up ahead.

Hawke is already there, waiting for us. "Glad you made it," she says. She nods at Varric. "Good to see you." She then points toward the depths of the cave. "He's back here."

I don't follow her immediately. "A group of Wardens were protecting a villager from corpses out near Crestwood."

"They were likely hunting my friend. I'm glad they didn't come looking for people to help in here. They might well be good men, but they've been given bad orders."

I walk past her, into the cave.

The tunnel is narrow, both sides close enough I can reach out and touch both without moving. Near the back, a makeshift wooden wall with a door has been put up, blocking off the last part of the cave. I look back at Hawke and she nods, motioning for me to continue.

The cave opens up significantly on the other side of the door. The space is almost perfectly round, circling around a table set up in the middle of the room. I frown as I walk farther in.

No one is here.

Suddenly, I hear a sword being drawn behind me. I turn, find myself looking at the end of a sword held by a man whose mustache would put Dorian's to shame.

Hawke walks in. "It's just us. I brought the Inquisitor."

The man looks back and forth between us for a moment and I take the few seconds to study him. He's got lightly tanned skin, stark black hair and stubble on his face. He wears armor similar to what the Grey Wardens we'd met earlier wear.

He finally lowers his sword, sheathing it. "My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor."

"Most of you Wardens disappear," I say, figuring I should get right to the point. "Then I run into a darkspawn Magister named Corypheus. Do you think that one might have something to do with the other?"

"I fear it is so. When my friend Hawke slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest. But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power." He walks away, toward the table littered with books and parchment. "My investigation uncovered clues but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling."

Hawke gasps, stepping foward. "Maker, why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a Grey Warden matter. I was bound by an oath of secrecy."

I hesitate. "Is the Calling some sort of Grey Warden ritual?"

He turns around. "The Calling tells a Warden that the Blight will soon claim him. Starts with dreams. Then come whispers in his head. The Warden says his farewells and goes to the Deep Roads to meet his death in combat."

"And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now?" Hawke asks. "They think they're dying?"

He nods. "Yes, likely because of Corypheus. If the Wardens fell, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear."

I clench my fists, feel my nails dig into the palms of my hands.

Hawke's face scrunches with disgust. "So Corypheus isn't controlling them. He's bluffing them with this Calling, and they're falling for it."

"Is the Calling they're hearing real, or is Corypheus mimicking it somehow?" I ask.

Stroud shakes his head. "I know not. Even as a senior Warden, I had heard only the vaguest whispers of Corypheus. The Wardens believe that this Calling is real, and they will act accordingly. That is all we know for certain."

"You said all the Wardens are hearing the Calling. Does that include you?" I turn around, look at Blackwall behind me. "And also you, Blackwall?"

Stroud sighs. "Sadly, yes. It lurks like a wolf in the shadows around a campfire. The creature that makes this music has never known the love of the Maker but… At times, I almost understand it. We must uncover what Corypheus has done and end it. This cannot stand."

"I do not fear the Calling," Blackwall says, shaking his head. "And worrying about it only gives it power. Anything Corypheus does will only strengthen my resolve."

"How can Corypheus make all these Wardens hear the Calling?" I ask.

"I cannot say. We know little about him, save that he is dangerous. He is a Magister as well as a darkspawn—and speaks with the voice of the Blight. That lets him affect the minds of Wardens, since we are tied to the Blight ourselves. It must be how he created this false Calling."

I throw my head back in exasperation. Why can't things just go simply for once? "So the Wardens are making some last, desperate attack on the darkspawn?"

"We are the only ones who can slay Archdemons. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world. Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished. When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me." He fights back the sadness in his face, walks back over to the table. "Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach."

Great. More traveling. I walk up, look down at the map he points to, committing the spot to memory.

"It is an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers."

Quickly, he gathers his important papers, stuffing them in his pack. Hawke and him then exchange a look before leaving the cave, nodding at us as they pass.

I sigh. "Let's head back to camp. Let the others know."

* * *

Late that night, as everyone is piling into their tents to sleep, Solas gives me a look that makes me hang back. Once everyone is quiet, I head in the direction Solas had disappeared.

It's still raining. I can't help but wonder if the brewing rift in the lake is spewing water into the air, giving the illusion of rain. The hood over my head barely keeps my face dry.

Solas finds me after a minute or so of walking. "Come," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me farther from camp.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"You shall see."

There's a small cave not too far from camp. Inside, a small fire already burns, warming the space quite a great deal.

"What're we doing here?"

"More Fade lessons," he says. "I figured it was a good time."

There are no herbs laid out by our bedrolls this time.

"Is that…all?"

His smile is mischievous. "Well, maybe not _all_."

I laugh, letting his arms drift around me as his lips meet mine. His fingers reach into my cloak, pull it off without hesitation. I let him guide me to the bedrolls, already pulling my clothes up and over my head.

I do not fall asleep right away. Instead, I lay in his arms, run my finger across his bare chest. This makes him chuckle and kiss the top of my head.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan," he whispers.

I smile into his neck. "Always." I then push myself up, look down at him. "Why no herbs this time?"

"You should practice without them. You will not always have them at your disposal."

I frown. "Then, how will I enter the Fade?"

"On your own. Through your dreams."

I sigh, lay my head back down in the crook of his neck. His hands trail down my back, making me shiver. His touch leaves trails of fire burning across my skin so easily. Already I can feel myself tensing, feel the burn spreading through me. I tilt my head back, kiss the underside of his jaw.

He laughs. "You're insatiable."

"Maybe." I continue kissing him. "What was it that Sera said? 'Drop 'em and rebuild the empire?'"

He's starting to lose his concentration. I can tell by the way he sighs. "Don't tell me you find that funny."

"Of course I do. She's hilarious. Part of it because she annoys you so."

He groans, though I can't tell if it's from my words or my lips against his neck. "She isn't…" He swallows. He finally moans in defeat, pulls me on top of him. He then lets out a small roar, as Sera had done to try to get a rise out of him.

We both laugh. But our laughter quickly dies out, our breathing now too heavy to allow for it.

This time, I do fall asleep after, my body now too exhausted to stay awake any longer.


	36. Vulnerable

**This was definitely one of my favorite chapters to write. One of the scenes was actually inspired by some fanart I saw of Solas and Inky. Maybe you'll recognize which one?**

**On a different topic, any of you guys play Hollow Knight? My husband and I recently discovered it and OH MY GOSH! It's by far the best side-scroller I've played in ages! It's so frustrating but SO good at the same time! Ugh :(**

* * *

36 - Vulnerable

When I open my eyes, I know immediately I've done it. The world around me pitches and swirls. Spirits drift in and out of view.

My heart races. Never before can I remember dreaming so vividly. At least, not like this.

Solas is not with me. The cave where we slept is empty. Not even the fire crackles behind me. I get up, walk outside.

It doesn't rain here. I walk through the trees, down the small hill. Spirits still flit in and out, giggling, whispering. I find myself utterly and completely unafraid of their presence. It seems natural, as if this is all it could ever be.

I wander aimlessly, following the spirits as they dance around me. I spot the area where our main camp had been set up but find the clearing empty. Down below, the lake is gone, Old Crestwood whole. I sigh, drift through the empty houses, taking in every detail.

Is this what it's like? Walking the Fade every time Solas closes his eyes?

Then I wonder. Where _is_ Solas? Why am I alone?

I don't know how, but suddenly the world around me shifts, melting. When it stops, solidifying under my feet, I'm in a completely different area. Two great Ghilan'nain statues stand on either side of a small pond. Standing with feet barely touching the water, is Solas.

He turns, eyebrows raised. "You are a natural, it seems," he says.

"What do you mean?" I walk toward him, look around the small grove. "How did I get here?"

"You were searching for me, were you not?"

"Well, not really to be honest. I just wondered where you were."

He laughs. "It appears you really _are_ a dreamer. You are in my dream, now."

"Oh," I breathe.

He smirks, cocking his head to the side as his eyes travel down the length of my body. "As much as I enjoy the view, I highly doubt you meant to come here naked?"

My eyes widen and I look down. How long had I been wandering the Fade like this? Instantly, clothes appear, covering me. "Sorry," I mutter. "I hadn't even noticed."

He laughs again. "Do not apologize. I enjoyed it while it lasted."

My face burns despite this. "Why are you here?"

He looks back over the small pond. "It's quiet here. And the Veil is thin. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?"

I reach up, let the mist swirling around us caress my fingers. "Yes. It's marvelous."

He steps back so he no longer stands in the water and then sits. I join him, lean my head against his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head, then reaches out with his hand.

Mana pours from him. Instantly, brightly glowing shapes start to dance through the air, spinning, twirling. Fish, halla, ram, bears. All of them move together, leaving trails of light behind them as they bound through the air.

I don't know how long we sit there, watching the animals move. Long enough for spirits to start fading in and out around us, watching the strange dance as well.

"Freckles?"

* * *

Solas and I both jump up, suddenly back in the small cave, our fire long-since burned out. Light is filtering into the cave and the figure silhouetted at the mouth of it is small.

"Sweet Andraste's tits, this was _way_ more ass than I wanted to see this morning."

I groan, grabbing for the blanket that had slipped away in sleep to cover myself back up. "_What_ are you doing here, Varric? Seriously? Can't we have a few hours of peace?"

Varric laughs, turning his head so I can grab my cloak and slip it on. Solas remains motionless beside me, eyes closed but mouth pursed in annoyance.

"The Seeker was getting ready to send out a search party. Just be glad it was me who found you and not Sera, or Iron Bull for that matter." He reaches down, grabs Solas's pants on the floor next to him to toss them at him. "Here, Chuckles. Might want to put these on before the rest of them find their way up here."

Solas growls but takes them.

"I _knew _there was something kinky about you, Chuckles. Didn't I say so?"

"Twelve year olds," Solas mutters.

"What did everyone need, Varric?"

He has his back to us to let us dress. His voice bounces back to me. "Oh, we just got word that the dam has been cleared out, so we can go there anytime to drain the lake."

I quickly run my fingers through my hair, brushing and fluffing it out, trying not to make it look so obvious. Solas leaves before me, throwing Varric a look as he passes him. I step in front of Varric when I leave, point my finger at him.

"Speak to no one about what you just saw."

He laughs. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that. I don't want you _baring_ down on my ass if I told everyone. You're scarier than the Seeker when you're angry." He pats my back as I groan. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Yeah, I definitely doubt that. I know you're writing down everything you see. I've seen the papers. If I come across a page about finding us in a cave—"

His laugh cuts me off. "Don't worry. My lips are sealed." He falters under my glare. "_And_ my pen."

It takes only a few minutes to get back to the camp. Indeed, it does look as if everyone is a bit worried about my absence, although the look on Dorian's face says all I need to know about his assumptions…no matter how correct they are.

"Well, let's head to the dam. Varric? Blackwall? Solas?"

They all nod.

The rest head to Crestwood to help the villagers fend off the corpses. We make our way back to the fort we had helped take back. The door to the dam section opens easily and leads out to a section of land behind the fort. Ahead of us, the dam separates a deep chasm to our left from the lake on our right.

Above the entrance to the dam hangs a sign that reads "The Rusted Horn."

"A tavern?" I ask, looking at it in confusion.

"It seems so," Varric says.

The door is unlocked. We walk in, down a long hallway.

I can hear giggling coming from farther in. I turn the corner in time to see two young shemlen there, laying under a large blanket, clearly in the middle of some…intimate activities. They both gasp as we walk into view, pulling the blanket up to cover themselves.

"What in—!" The girl squeals.

Varric shakes his head. "Andraste, not again," he mutters. "Wonderful."

"The Inquisitor! We didn't know you were here, ser. Please, don't tell anyone!" The boy says.

I cover my mouth, barely hiding my laugh. "How did you two manage to sneak past all the guards to get here?"

"There weren't any when we got here," the girl moans.

"We just heard you killed the bandits, Your Worship. We didn't know you were moving in, we promise." The boy answers. "Please, don't tell anyone we were here!"

I bite my lip. "Don't worry. My lips are sealed."

He sighs in relief. "Thank you! Lonnie's mum and dad would've have my head."

"But, I can't imagine that this place really sets the _mood_ at all…" I say.

"We can't head back now. Your father will be awake." The boy sighs. "We'll need to wait at least another hour to head back."

The girl sobs. "I knew this was a mistake. We should just go home."

"We could try the caves?"

I glance at Solas and Varric, who both smirk at me.

"But you hate spiders," the girl sobs.

"You find somewhere next time!"

I finally let my laugh go. "Don't worry. We saw nothing. We'll be out of here shortly, I promise."

We all walk to the back of the tavern, to a door covered in cobwebs. The key the Mayor had given me opens this door.

The controls for the dam sit in the middle of the room. I look at my friends with raised eyebrows. "I thought the Mayor said these controls were destroyed by darkspawn ten years ago?"

"It looks like there's more going on here than what he let on," Blackwall says.

All of us work together to turn the giant wheel. Deep, booming clanks issue from the ground beneath us, letting us know it's working. Once the wheel stops, we walk back outside—as promised, ignoring the young couple—and we all lean over the dam to watch.

Great mouths shaped like lions spew water from their depths, sucking it from the lake to drop it into the valley below. We watch as a dragon sleeping in the deepest recesses of the valley takes to the sky, flying overhead and off into the distance.

"A dragon," Blackwall groans. "Do we ever have _uneventful _days?"

I laugh. "I've just come to accept that we never will."

"Freckles?"

I turn, look at Varric leaning over the opposite ledge. He points down.

Below, the lake has dropped a good few feet. Already I can see the points of decayed roofs and buildings starting to peek above the water's surface.

"Looks like this will take awhile," I say, sighing. "Let's head to the fort and wait for it to drain completely."

* * *

It takes a few hours. All of us take the time to restock, check out how the fort is now being utilized by the Inquisition. Once the water stops flowing from the dam, we all gather back together and make our way toward Old Crestwood.

The ground squishes under my feet. Seaweed splays out in random places, spread across the ground like some strange many-legged bug no longer able to hold its weight. The skeletons of the houses I had seen hints of now stand freely, wood rotted and dripping. The closer we get to Old Crestwood, the more I can feel the Veil thinning, dancing across my skin and making my hair stand on end.

For a moment, confusion makes me stop. Spirits are flitting in and out of view, just like in the Fade. But the ground beneath me does not pitch, the sky clear aside from the rain pouring from the clouds. I look back at Solas, raise my eyebrows.

"I can feel the weakness in the Veil, even above ground," he says. "Spirits are being called here like moths to flame."

I walk through the town, recognizing certain aspects from my journey in the Fade. Most of it is unrecognizable due to the decay. Eventually, I find a spirit yelling at a bookshelf long since collapsed in on itself, commanding it to move. I listen to its desire to have one thing listen to its command, bow my head as I offer to complete a task for it so it can go back across the Veil.

The Mayor's old home still stands in the rubble. I can't help but notice that it's almost empty of all furniture, unlike the rest of the houses.

"Strange," Varric says. "He managed to find time to pack up all his things before the town flooded?"

My stomach starts to drop. Maybe my suspicions when talking to him are correct. Did he know about the flood beforehand somehow?

We find the entrance that leads down to the flooded caves, which is where the rift seems to be. We crawl farther and farther down, finding many bloated and decayed bodies, along with signs of long-since destroyed camps.

"Were people living down here when Crestwood was flooded?" I ask myself. I cringe at the thought.

Spirits still float up and down the spiraling stairs leading down deeper into the caves. Many of them scream, groan in agony and fear. My stomach falls, heart growing heavy at the words they whisper to themselves.

So much despair down here. I have no doubt anymore that people had been living in these caves when they were flooded. The spirits make it all too clear.

At the bottom of the deep chasm, we find an extremely old dwarven thaig.

"What's an old dwarven thaig doing way down here?" Varric asks.

Solas's eyes roam over the walls, lingering on the glowing red light filtering in through them. "The dwarven magics are strong. They still sing."

Finally, deep in the thaig, we find the rift that has been causing so much trouble. High above, the ground opens up to the sky. That's how we could see the green light of the rift drifting through the lake, I realize.

We work together, take down the demons roaming the large room. The demons down here are strong, fueled by the despair tainting this place. By the time we're done and the rift is closed, all of us are exhausted, breathing heavy, sweat and moisture from the air pouring down our faces.

"The townspeople will no longer have to worry about their dead rising from the lake," Solas says with satisfaction.

Outside, the rain has finally stopped. The sky above is a bright and clear blue, blindingly so after so much darkness. I sigh in relief.

Immediately, we head toward Crestwood to confront the Mayor. Too many things have added up to point the finger at him instead of the darkspawn. The rest of my companions wait for me there, relaxing with the villagers and passing around rations.

A few of the villagers whisper to each other, talking about the Mayor disappearing.

"He rode out an hour ago. I spotted him from Beyer's Field. He didn't even stop to wave."

Just as the villagers said, his cabin is empty, a note laying on his desk.

He's fled.

"A letter of confession from the Mayor," I say after I read it. "It says _he_ was the one who flooded Old Crestwood ten years ago. To stop the Blight from spreading."

Varric shakes his head. "I _knew_ he was nervous about more than the undead."

Sera, who had followed us up to the house, looks at me with eyes wide in shock. "He drowned them…in the muck?" Her face contorts though her eyes are now bright. "Oh, 'Mayor' is having an arrow for tea."

I put the note in my pack. Leliana can take care of this. "Back to Skyhold, then, to prepare for the journey to the Western Approach. There's nothing more we can do here."


	37. The Worst Place in the World

37 - The Worst Place in the World

"Inquisitor! Welcome to the Western Approach." Scout Harding bows her head. "You're a long way from the Winter Palace now. Between the sandstorms and the vicious wildlife, we haven't made it far out here. One of my men got too close to a poison hot spring and gave me a slightly delirious report of a high dragon flying overhead. In short: this might just be the worst place in the entire world. Be careful out there."

"Well…" I hesitate. "It's good to know what I'm in for."

She shrugs. "Sorry I don't have more for you. We intercepted a Venatori messenger and 'persuaded' him to give up the orders he was carrying. We have them here." She smirks, though it quickly falls. "This entire place… It just feels like something's not right. Be careful."

"Ah," I groan to myself. "Great."

"Don't worry, boss," Iron Bull says as he drops his stuff. The others all already have spread throughout the small camp, covering their faces against the sand in the wind. "We got this."

Everyone starts to unpack, set up tents. It had been a four day journey back to Skyhold from Crestwood, a quick night of rest, and then an almost two week ride on horseback to the Western Approach. Exhausted doesn't seem to cover it for any of us.

We all gather around the campfire, per usual, to eat and talk before going to sleep. I stare at my map and then look up in the direction of the tower Stroud had pointed us to. Too many waving hills of sand stand between us and the tower, so I cannot see it.

A hand on my shoulder makes me jump.

Solas smiles and sits behind me. I set down my map when his fingers start to pull through my hair, gently yanking free the tangles caused by the wind. Then they start to twist, moving with precision. Cassandra gives him a strange look as she watches him.

Sera blows a raspberry. "Where did _you_ learn to do fancy hair thingys? Your head is about a smooth as…_this_." She grabs a handful of sand.

"I have not always had a bald head," he says, not even looking away from his fingers as they work. "It's an essential skill to learn when one has long hair."

"You?" I say, barely looking over my shoulder so as not to disturb his progress. "You had hair?" It's not something I can imagine. In my mind, his smooth head has just always been.

He laughs. "Of course! I was young once, as were we all. My baldness was a choice."

"Pfft," Sera breathes. "A bad one."

Solas doesn't react.

"Here," Cassandra says, standing to her feet. "Let me help you."

"No offense, Seeker, but I know what I'm doing."

Cassandra frowns at him before sitting. "You so rarely call me by my name, Solas. Why is that?"

He hesitates. "Manners, perhaps?"

"Manners have not held you back on other occasions."

"I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie. But there is no lie in what you are. Your position is an honorable one, and well-earned."

Her scowl fades, giving way to a smile. "Thank you."

He inclines his head.

Varric claps his hands. "While Chuckle's hands are preoccupied, why don't we play a round of Diamondback?"

"Am I not allowed to play?" Solas asks.

Varric shakes his finger at him. "We've all heard the story from Blackwall. I'd rather not lose my knickers, at least not in front of all of you." He winks at me.

Sera dissolves into a fit of giggles at the look on Blackwall's face.

After the cards are passed out, I lean back just a couple of inches when no one is looking.

"You'll help me, won't you?" I whisper.

Solas chuckles. "Of course. We need payback for Crestwood."

No one seems to notice that Solas instructs me on what to do, partly because he's seemingly an expert at speaking without moving his lips. Much to our delight, Varric is soon sitting on his log, shirt and pants gone and knickers next to come off. Sweet, sweet payback.

Varric throws down his hand before he completely loses, standing to his feet. He points his finger at me. "I know Chuckles was helping you," he says, crossing his arms. "Only _he_ can get someone out of their clothes so fast."

We all laugh as he stomps his way to his tent. Solas leans forward, kissing the top of my head before letting my hair go. I reach up, my fingers running across the dozens of wild braids and twists that hang to my waist. I know almost immediately what it looks like. Despite his hate for them, he seems to have some small Dalish influences himself.

"It's perfect," I whisper to him.

He just smiles.

That night, I find him in his dreams. Every night it gets easier, the transition smoother and smoother with each successful attempt. This time, he stands in a small oasis, deep in a secluded canyon.

"Hello," he says without even looking at me.

"So…you used to have hair?"

He laughs, turning to me. "Of course. Do you wish to see?"

"You can do that?"

"It's the Fade." He closes his eyes.

I watch as deep, dark hair sprouts from his head, quickly spinning and twisting up and back. Within seconds, he stands before me with a great mane of hair spun into thick braids and twists, pulled back away from his face. It makes him look wild.

He sighs. "It was quite cumbersome to care for on my own."

"It looks…good." Oddly sexy.

The hair disappears in a flash. "I prefer the bald head. Much easier to manage."

* * *

"I'm glad you made it, Inquisitor," Stroud says as we approach the tower. "I fear they've already started the ritual."

I look back at my companions. Solas, Varric, and Blackwall accompany me.

"Blood magic, I'd wager," Hawke adds, stepping toward us. "You can smell it…or see the corpses. You take point. I'll guard your backs."

We move forward, walking across the bridge that spans the gap in the canyon. Bodies litter the floor, blood pooling beneath them. They're too fresh to smell overwhelming just yet, but flies have already started to wander over.

I can hear voices echoing to us from ahead, but I cannot make out the words for a good few steps. Finally, pieces start to float back to me.

"I'm sorry."

I gasp, watch as a man standing in the middle of the large opening falls forward when a Warden stabs him in the stomach.

Another man stands over all of them, smiling. "…Sacrifice."

The sacrificed man falls to the ground as a rift opens above his body. A Rage demon—a thing made of pure fire—emerges, flexing its arms above its head.

"Good. Now bind it, just as I showed you."

The man who had driven the knife into the sacrifice reaches forward, binds the Rage demon. It submits and the man's eyes glow red.

They see us then. The man above raises his arms toward me. "Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure." He bows, twirls his arms. His dark hair is prevented from falling into his eyes during the deep bow because of the tie holding it up. "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service."

Stroud frowns. "You are no Warden."

"But you are." Erimond sighs. "The one Clarel let slip." He nods toward me. "And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?"

I clench my fists, turn toward the Wardens around us. All of their eyes glow red. "Wardens! This man is lying to you. He serves an ancient Tevinter Magister who wants to unleash a Blight."

Erimond raises his eyebrows. His eyes are a strange, pale grey color. "That's a very serious accusation. Let's see what the Wardens think. Wardens, hands up." He raises his left arm.

All the Wardens lift their left arms at the same time, at the same speed. My heart falls.

"Hands down."

Stroud looks at me. "Corypheus has taken their minds."

"They did this to themselves," Erimond says, clasping his hands behind his back. The Wardens all do the same. "You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked _everywhere_ for help."

"Even Tevinter," Stroud mutters.

"Yes. And since it was my _master_ who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan… Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake."

I shake my head with a small laugh. "Ah. I was wondering when the demon army would show up."

Erimond falters just slightly. "You knew about it…did you? Well, then…here you are." He takes a step back, composes himself. "Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves. This was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas."

"Why would the Wardens try to kill the Old Gods?" I ask.

"A Blight happens when darkspawn find an Old God and corrupt it into an Archdemon. If someone fought through the Deep Roads and killed the Old Gods before they could be corrupted…poof! No more Blights. Ever. The Wardens sacrifice their lives and save the world. Although I fear history will remember them a little differently now."

"Why would Clarel risk using demons?"

"Demons need no food, no rest, no healing. Once bound, they will never retreat, never question orders. They are the perfect army to fight through the Deep Roads. Or across Orlais, now that they are bound to my master."

I clench my fists. "So Corypheus influenced the Wardens and made them do this ritual?"

He laughs. "Made them? No. Everything you see here? The blood sacrifices to bind the demons? The Wardens did it of their own free will. Fear is a very good motivator, and they were very afraid."

Blackwall finally steps forward, his face contorted with rage. "That's a lie! The Grey Wardens are heroes! They would never do this willingly!"

"The Grey Wardens care about nothing save stopping the Blight," Erimond yells. "They will do _anything_ to accomplish that. You should have seen Clarel agonize over the decision. Burdens of command, I suppose."

I feel my blood start to boil. So the Grey Wardens did this willingly? "Do you really want to see the world fall to the Blight?" I ask. "What do you get out of this?"

"The Elder One commands the Blight. He is not commanded _by_ it, like the mindless darkspawn. The Blight is not unstoppable or uncontrollable. It is simply a tool."

"Somebody's certainly a tool," Varric mutters under his breath.

"As for me: while the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we, the Venatori, will be his God-Kings here in the world."

I've had enough. I step forward, feel my eyebrows furrow together. "Release the Wardens from the binding and surrender. I won't ask twice."

Erimond shakes his head. "No. You won't." He lifts his arm into the air, hand glowing red.

Instantly, my body seizes in pain, my mark flaring to life. I fall to my knees, an involuntary scream slipping through my lips.

"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again. That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil?"

I growl through my pain, look up at him.

"You stole that from my master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade."

I push myself to my feet, Solas there in an instant to help.

"When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be—"

I reach up, grab at the rift hanging in the air between us. Erimond gasps, crying out in surprise as the rift explodes, closing in a bright flash. When the smoke clears, Erimond and the Wardens all lay on their backs.

Erimond hoists himself to his feet, holding his side. "Kill them!"

The Wardens jump to their feet as Erimond disappears in the lingering smoke and dust. I grab my staff, my companions gathering around me.

I try my best to not hit the Wardens around us but they don't hesitate. They twirl their staffs, dancing around us, sicking their bound demons on us like dogs. I swing my glowing sword alongside Blackwall and Stroud, driving them back until they finally fall to the ground.

Hawke turns to me once the last of the Wardens falls next to his demon. "So…that went well."

Stroud nods his head as he joins us, looking at Hawke. "You were correct. Through their ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus."

"And the Warden Warriors?" She asks. We all exchange looks before she sighs. "Oh, of course. It's not _real_ blood magic until someone gets sacrificed."

"The mages killed their fellow Wardens," I say, barely keeping the growl from my lips. "Nothing can justify that."

Hawke's eyes narrow. "With blood magic and human sacrifice." She crosses her arms, shakes her head. "I don't care about justifications. It's past time to take arms against the Wardens and stop this madness."

"The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons," Stroud says.

I look at Stroud, glaring at him. How could the Grey Wardens do this? These Grey Wardens aren't the heroes that Solas had told me about from his dreams. These…they are cowards.

"All blood mages do," Hawke sighs. "Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions… And it never matters." Her face contorts with disgust. "In the end, you are always alone with your actions."

Stroud turns to me. "I believe I know where the Wardens are, Your Worship. Erimond fled in that direction." He points off to the distance. "There's an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant."

"Good thinking." I shrug. "I guess they didn't want to summon a demon army out in public."

"The Warden and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there. We'll meet you back at Skyhold."

* * *

"Too much traveling," Varric mutters, brushing sand off his face and out of his hair.

I hum an agreement.

Due to our much larger party, Hawke and Stroud manage to make it back to Skyhold much faster than us, even considering their brief detour to Adamant. When we finally arrive, everyone scatters to the wind, heading toward their quarters. Even Solas disappears to his rotunda, at least for a couple hours. He knocks on my door mere moments after I finish emptying my bathwater. The feel of his skin against mine relaxes me more than the bath ever could, the comfort of his arms lulling me into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I head straight to the War Room the next morning. Both Hawke and Varric stand outside the large door, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Hawke looks at me as I walk up. "I tracked that Venatori mage back to Adamant Fortress. They're looking at assault options now in the War Room."

"Thanks for coming," Varric says to her.

"You did well, Varric. The Inquisitor is…" She looks at me. "Just who we need."

Varric laughs. "Oh, it's been great. Murderous Wardens, Archdemon attacks, plenty of blood mages, and crazy Templars. Just like home."

Hawke lowers her voice. "I know how much you hated leaving Kirkwall."

"This is the ass end of Thedas. You know they eat _snails_ here?"

"Wait, they do?" I ask, feigning surprise. "I hadn't noticed."

Hawke laughs. "I see why you like her."

"Still, I think…" Varric sighs. "I need to finish this out. If it weren't for me and Bartrand, none of this would have happened. So much for changing our lives."

"That's what happens when you try to change things," Hawke says. "Things change. You can't always control how."

* * *

**As you can tell, I totally do _not_ headcanon that concept art Solas is pre-Inquisition Solas...he he he...**


	38. Here Lies the Abyss

38 - Here Lies the Abyss

"Adamant Fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the time of the second Blight," Leliana says.

"Fortunately for us," Cullen says. "That means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls. And thanks to our lady Ambassador…" He turns, smirks at Josephine.

"Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. They've already delivered the trebuchets."

"That is the good news," Leliana finishes.

"None of that accounts for the Wardens summoning a giant demon army," I sigh.

"That is the bad news." Leliana shakes her head.

Cullen looks at her. "The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons…"

"I found records of Adamant's construction. There are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle."

Oh, how I love Leliana.

"That's good," Cullen says. "We may not be able to defeat them outright… But if we cut off reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel."

I sit down. "Taking this fortress is going to get a lot of good soldiers killed."

"Our soldiers know the risks, Inquisitor," Josephine says. "And they know what they're fighting for."

Cullen nods. "It'll be hard-fought, no way around it. But we'll get that gate open."

"It's also possible that some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause," Josephine adds.

Leliana shakes her head at her. "The warriors may be willing to listen to reason, thought I doubt they will turn against Clarel directly." She glances at me. "The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death."

Cullen clasps his hands in front of him. "We've built the siege engines and readied our forces, Inquisitor. Give the word, and we march on Adamant."

I stand, nodding at them all in turn. "Get our forces ready. I shall go to everyone and see who wants to come. I can't ask them all to risk their lives. Not this time."

* * *

Everyone proves to be exhausted and many turn me down, which I am not surprised about. However, Blackwall, Cassandra, Varric, and of course Solas all agree to come despite the way their bones all ache.

We travel with the soldiers back toward the Western Approach. Adamant lies on the very edge of the Abyssal Rift—a chasm in the ground that is believed to stretch all the way to the Deep Roads. Camp is made just out of sight of the fortress, so the soldiers have time to rest and prepare without fear of being discovered. The next morning, the trebuchets are loaded and driven over to the edge of the chasm.

The five of us hang back as Cullen and the Inquisition forces push toward Adamant, attacking the walls, breaking down the main gates. The Wardens inside fight, fire lighting on both sides as flaming arrows fly through the air.

My body itches as I watch. It takes everything in me to hold myself back from joining the battle quickly turning bloody. Solas's hand on my back helps hold me in place. We have to wait, I tell myself. We can't risk dying in the middle the battle. It's our job to take down Clarel, no one else's.

Finally, the front gates fly open. Cullen marches toward us, gesturing to the gates now hanging on the hinges.

"All right, Inquisitor. You have your way in. Best make use of it. We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can."

"I'll be fine. Just keep the men safe."

"We'll do what we have to, Inquisitor. Warden Stroud will guard your back."

Stroud walks up, then, inclining his head at us.

"Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She's assisting them until you arrive." He glances up at the walls, where the Wardens and their demons clash with the soldiers. We watch in horror as a demon grabs one of the Inquisition's men and tosses him off the side. "There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we'll cover your advance." He then turns, heading back toward the fortress.

I nod at my friends beside me and we march forward, walking through the gates and into the courtyard. The fortress is smaller than it looks from the outside, easy to navigate. The five of us push back against the demons and Wardens scattered among the lower parts of the fortress as we make our way up to the battlements.

I notice that a few of the Warden's seem to have some of their mind left. They cry out about the madness around them, fall back as we push through the ones under Corypheus's spell. My heart hammers with hope.

"The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel," I yell at them. "Not to kill Wardens. If you fall back, you won't be harmed."

They nod at me, back away to let us pass. "All right. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must." He hands us supplies to help us push through.

"Well said," Stroud whispers to me. "I had hoped some of the Wardens would listen to reason."

We make our way to the battlements, clear the area around the ladders. Eventually, we make our way around, find a pride demon rampaging where Hawke waits for us. We take it down, the task much easier than it had been so, so long ago.

"Inquisitor," Hawke says once the demons have fallen. "Always a pleasure."

"Good work," I say. "Stay with my forces and see that they survive this."

She nods, pulling out her daggers. "I'll keep the demons off them as best I can." She runs off, toward where the bulk of the fighting is taking place.

"Be safe, Hawke!" Varric yells after her.

Once all the siege points are clear, we make our way to the farthest reaches of the battlements, down to a lower courtyard. Voices pour out of a secluded door here and I quickly push the door open.

Warden mages and warriors stand facing a balcony. On the balcony stand three people.

Clarel is a tall, aged woman, with short grey hair, holding a small dagger to another man's throat. Erimond watches, his face a mixture of fear and victory. As we run up, the man in front of Clarel falls to the floor, a rift appearing in the middle of the small clearing. On the other side of the rift, I can see a large, mountainous monster with thousands of eyes staring back at us through it.

Erimond turns to us.

"Stop them! We must complete the ritual!"

I hold my hand out, stopping my friends, along with Stroud and Hawke, from marching forward. The Wardens in the courtyard face me, hesitant but swords drawn.

"I'm sure you can't wait for Clarel to do that," I say. "How else are you going to bind her?"

Erimond steps forward. "Yes, Inquisitor, I want to bind the Warden-Commander to a demon. Everyone in this room already knows that."

Clarel's eyes dart to me, showing hesitation.

"And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

"We make the sacrifices no one else will," Clarel shouts. "Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

Stroud stands beside me. "And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!"

A hush spreads through the courtyard. The Wardens in front of us look up at Clarel in confusion.

Clarel takes a step back, her eyes widening. "Corypheus? But he's dead."

"These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel," Erimond says.

Clarel places her hand on her forehead, rubbing it, closing her eyes with a deep sigh. We watch her war with the emotions in her face. She finally opens her eyes. "Bring it through."

Erimond's eyes darken as he looks at us, smirk on his face. The Wardens standing around us reach up into the rift. It opens with a great flash. Clarel backs away as Erimond steps forward, his face twisted in a sneer.

"Please," Hawke says. "I have seen more than my share of blood magic! It is never worth the cost!"

"I have trained half of you myself!" Stroud shouts. "Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!"

Things on the other side of the rift scream, the sound echoing through the air.

"Be ready with the ritual, Clarel," Erimond commands. "This demon is truly worthy of your strength."

"Listen to me!" I yell out to them, holding my hands above my head. "I have no quarrel with the Wardens! I have spared those I could! I don't want to kill you, but you're being used…" I let my eyes wander over the Wardens standing before us, note the doubt in their eyes. "And some of you know it, don't you?"

One of the Wardens steps toward me. "The mages who've done the ritual?" He pauses. "They're not right. They were my friends, but now they're like puppets on a string."

"You cannot let fear sway your mind, Warden Chernoff!" Clarel yells.

Hawke lets out a roar. "He's not afraid! You are. You're afraid that you ordered all these brave men and women to die for nothing!"

"I honor your bravery, my brothers and sisters," Stroud calls out. "But this is not the way. You have been tricked."

The Wardens before us all hesitate, look back at Clarel and Erimond. Clarel's eyebrows rise high on her forehead.

"Clarel," Erimond says, turning to her. "We have come so far. You're the only one who can do this."

She hesitates. "Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed."

Erimond sneers. "Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally." He turns his back on her, looks at me. "My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you!"

He taps his staff to the ground three times.

A great roar rends the sky. The sound vibrates deep in my being, bringing back memories of me diving deep into a crevasse to escape the rampaging snow. I look up, my heart hammering, see the dark and winged shape of the dragon that had attacked Haven. The five of us, Hawke, and Stroud all dive as the dragon swoops down, spraying its strange red tendril flames over the ground. I look up in time to see Clarel backing away from Erimond, her eyes wide in shock. Her gaze darts to the dragon now perched on one of the towers and then to the man she just sacrificed.

Suddenly, Erimond falls as Clarel's lightning hits his back. "Clarel, wait…" he moans as she flexes her fingers, staring down the dragon who looks so much like an Archdemon.

She aims for the dragon, her lightning bouncing off its scales. It roars in response, spews fire at her. She flies back, her body twisting through the air. She hits the ground but quickly jumps to her feet, diving out of the way as the dragon flies overhead again to breathe fire down at her.

"Help the Inquisitor!" She yells.

A pride demon pours out from the depths of the rift. The Wardens join in the battle against it, the dragon overhead adding to the chaos in the battlefield. The demons fall quickly now that we're joined by so many.

"How do we get out of here?!" I scream.

"The Warden-Commander went that way."

I nod, look back at my friends and motion for them to follow.

The fortress starts to crumble down around us. The dragon weaves in and out of the towers, swiping its claws at us as we follow Clarel's path. I aim my lightning at it when I can, hoping to at least drive it away.

Finally, we catch up to Clarel and Erimond. The two of them are locked in battle, fire blazing between them.

"You!" Clarel yells, marching toward him and deflecting his spells with ease. "You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!" She swings her staff, knocking him to the ground.

He lays for a moment, laughing under his breath. "You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch." He pushes himself to his side, holds the spot where she had hit him. "All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn't _wait_ to get your hands bloody!"

She growls in anger, swings her staff. A great burst of lightning shoots into him, throwing him backwards, his body dragging across the stone.

He rolls, moaning in pain. "You could have served a new god."

"I will _never_ serve the Blight."

We reach her, slow our feet.

And then she's gone, her body snatched up by the dragon as it flies past. I gasp, jumping back in horror as it flies away, Clarel's feet dangling from its mouth. It swings its massive head, tosses her. Her body lands with a sickening thud to the ground.

I don't realize I'm screaming until I feel the breath on my hand as I cover my mouth. She's still alive, thrashing on the ground.

The dragon drops down, walks toward us. I sob, fear choking me as all of us back away. We have no where to go, no where to run.

"In war, victory…" Clarel moans.

The dragon stands over her, extending its neck toward us.

"In peace, vigilance…"

It flexes, ready to pounce.

Clarel reaches up, her spell hitting it square in the stomach as its feet leave the ground. It loses its footing, jumps over us and to the edge of the crumbled wall. Its body hits the stone hard, the ground buckling under our feet.

Stone begins to collapse. I scramble backwards as the ground beneath me starts to rumble, falling with the dragon. I barely make it to my feet, throwing myself away from the falling floor. Stroud falls down and I turn back, grab his hand to pull him up.

We all jump, trying to get to where the ground doesn't fall. Trying to avoid falling into the deep chasm surrounding the walls far below us.

But then it's gone. I'm floating, no purchase beneath my feet. My heart pounds, my scream lost in the rush of wind. I react without thinking, reach out with my hand.

Green light blinds me and I close my eyes, waiting for the impact.


	39. Taking Them Back

39 - Taking Them Back

When I open my eyes, I'm falling but the world around me is distorted, glowing green with swirling mist. The ground still grows nearer. I scream, hold my arms over my head as the ground flies toward me.

Suddenly, my body slows. Then, without warning, I start to fall _up_. I look up, toward my feet, see ground above me. My body starts to turn so my head is closest to the approaching ground. My fall stops inches away.

I'm breathing heavy, staring up, down, whatever, at the ground just outside my reach. I let out a deep breath, calming myself, and slowly reach with my finger toward the ground.

Then I drop, my body colliding with a dull thud. I grunt in pain.

I lay for a moment, looking up at the swirling mist around me in fascination. I know where I am without having to ask. I've traveled it too much the last few weeks, both on my own and with Solas. I finally nod, push myself to my feet.

"Where are we?"

I turn. Stroud stands on the side of a boulder. I cock my head in confusion. Up, down, sideways, all of it backwards here. His feet are planted perfectly stable even though, to me, he stands at exactly ninety degrees. He spins in a circle until he looks up at me.

This is so strange.

"You were falling," he says, pointing at me.

I follow his eyes to another bolder across from him. Hawke stands there, completely upside down.

"We…we were falling," she gasps. "If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom."

I laugh under my breath.

"No," Solas breathes, making me jump. He, at least, is right-side up to me, just a few steps in front of me. "This is the Fade." He looks back at me. "The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through…and survived." He smiles, his eyes bright. "I never thought I would ever find myself here physically…" He points toward the sky. "Look. The Black City, almost close enough to touch."

"This is incredible," I breathe.

"What spirit commands this place?" His eyes roam over the structures around us, distorted, hanging in the air. "I have never seen anywhere like it."

"It's not how I remember the Fade, either," Hawke says. "Perhaps it's because we're here physically, instead of just dreaming." She looks back at me. "The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?"

"I…I don't know. I still can't remember what happened the last time I did this."

"Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now," Hawke breathes. "That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others."

"In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby," Stroud says. "In the main hall. Can we escape the same way?"

I step forward, look up at the swirling green mass far above us. Could that be the rift? "It beats waiting around for the demons to find us, right?" I point at the mass. "There. Let's go."

Blackwall, Cassandra, and Varric are there. They remain silent, following me as I walk forward. I watch them as their eyes roam around us. The fear in their gazes is so clear, so crisp I can almost feel it.

"Is this really what it's like when you dream?" Varric asks.

It takes me a moment to remember that dwarves, having no connection to the Fade, never dream. This is all new to him.

"How do you people ever sleep?" He sighs. "Remember last time we ended up in the Fade, Hawke?"

She moans. "Oh, how could I forget? My closest friends showed such loyalty in the face of a demon's temptations."

"Well, we got better. Sort of."

I laugh. I remember this story. Varric had told me. They had ventured into the Fade to help a young and untrained elf mage trapped in his dream. All of Hawke's companions had fallen prey to the demon, accepted its help to acquire dreams long fantasized over. Hawke had to snap them all out of their delusions to escape.

"This is fascinating," Solas says. "It is not the area I would have chosen, of course. But to physically walk within the Fade…" He sighs deeply.

"This must be a dream come true for you, Chuckles," Varric mutters.

"Yes. Literally."

"Concentrate on the task at hand, Solas," Cassandra says. "There is nothing more dangerous than this place."

He glares at her. "Thank you for the warning."

"I don't think we need to worry about Solas while here, Cassandra," I mutter. "He's probably the safest and least likely of us to fall to temptation." I look at him, dare a quick touch of his hand. "You're the expert on this place. Anything helpful?"

"You do not give yourself the credit you are due." He squares his shoulders. "The Fade is shaped by intent and emotion. Remain focused, and it will lead you where you wish to go. The demon that controls this area is extremely powerful. Some variety of fear, I would guess. I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations and prepare for what is certain to be a fascinating experience."

I laugh. He's just absolutely giddy. I, myself, feel a similar sense of wonder and fascination at what is around us, but I hold it back. We need to concentrate.

They all follow me, hesitant with eyes roaming over the land. Solas is the only one who stands relatively close to me, his eyes open and bright. Unabashedly, he reaches over and grabs my hand, letting me guide him.

The path is strange. It seems fairly linear but sometimes it'll twist, putting us upside down or sideways compared to the original path. Red lyrium seems to taint this place as well. After awhile, I turn the corner and come to a complete stop.

A woman is standing there, wearing elaborate Chantry robes that glitter a strange green-gold in the light. Her face is lined with many wrinkles and pitches, her eyebrows stark white.

Stroud walks up in front of me. "By the Maker, could that be…?"

The woman speaks. "I greet you, Warden. And you, Champion."

Her voice… I _know_ it from somewhere.

"Divine Justinia?" Cassandra gasps. "Most Holy?"

"Cassandra," the Divine whispers.

_That's _where I recognize her voice from. We had heard it ring out in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I turn to Cassandra. "Cassandra, you knew the Divine. Is this really her?"

Her face is pained, her eyes dark with sadness. "I… I don't know. It is said the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger, but… We know the spirits lie. Be wary, Inquisitor."  
Stroud shakes his head. "I fear we face a spirit…or a demon."

"You think my survival impossible," the Divine says. "Yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have."

Hawke laughs under her breath. "Really? How hard is it to answer one question? I'm a human, and you are…"

The Divine frowns. "I am here to help you." She looks at me, shaking her head. "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."

I hesitate. "The real Divine would have no way of knowing that I'd been made Inquisitor."

Solas squeezes my hand approvingly.

"I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus." She turns away from me, looking off in the distance. "It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work."

Stroud growls. "I would gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare dealt my brethren."

"You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair."

"Corypheus seems to have a lot of demons at his disposal," I say. "How does he command so many?"

"I know not how he commands his army of demons. His power may come from the Blight itself. But the Nightmare serves willingly, for Corypheus has brought much terror to this world. He was one of the Magisters who unleashed the first Blight upon the world, was he not? Every child's cry as the Archdemon circles, every dwarf's whimper in the Deep Roads… The Nightmare has fed well."

I remember the deep, booming growls that had issued from the rift Erimond had summoned with Clarel. "The big demon Erimond was trying to bring through?"

"Yes," she answers me.

"It's nearby?"

"Yes," she repeats.

I feel my shoulders sag. They had been trying to summon this Nightmare. "Well, shit."

"When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it." She gestures out at the Fade around us. "These are your memories, Inquisitor."

As she says it, spirits appear around us, small wisps that start to dance around the open area. Suddenly, they turn, sending waves of energy at us that throw us back. It happens so fast it takes a moment for us to all react, fight back.

It doesn't take long for us to take them down, not with five of us along with Hawke and Stroud. Once they fall, I turn back to the Divine. There are too many questions that need answered. This can wait.

"There is not much time, Inquisitor," she says.

"So can you tell me who… What you are?"

"I told you. I am helping you."

I sigh. "Yes, but are you her, or some kind of Fade-remnant of her, or a spirit imitating her?" The words rush out of me, one long stream of confusion.

"Our world is never that simple. What if the answer is none of those things? Or all of them? I am what the Maker made me. The question is: are you what the Maker made you, Inquisitor?"

I hesitate. "I was meant to become the Inquisitor."

"But what is the Inquisitor? And how will she change the world?" She smiles. "You believe in your purpose, and that is good. That is your power."

I grunt in frustration. "You still haven't answered my question. What _are_ you?"

"I am what you see. All other answers rest in you."

Okay… "Tell me why you're here, then. Why take part in this?"

"After Haven, I hid here. I watched quietly, learned what I could, and searched for some way to help. And then you came."

"I don't know what that means."

"Corypheus and the Nightmare do an injustice to the world. You must stop them. Perhaps you were meant to stop them. Perhaps that is why I am here."

I look down at my hand. "What can you tell me about this mark on my hand?"

"Recover your memories to learn how the mark came to be upon your hand. As for what it is… It is the needle that pulls the thread, as well as the key."

"I don't understand," I say with a small laugh.

"It is the needle that passes through the Veil, as little else can. You are the thread. And it is the key that locks or unlocks a door to the Fade. It lets you walk in the Fade physically and survive. Without it, Corypheus must find another way to the Black City. It is part of you now, and cannot be removed without your death."

I suck in a deep breath. I had known, or at least suspected as much, but to hear it so plainly… "So all of this is just a dream? Part of the Fade?"

"It is not 'just' a dream. The minds of mankind are made real here. Their hopes, their loves, and their fears. What changes their world also changes this one. And yours are footsteps that move mountains in both. Tread carefully, Inquisitor. This ground is more treacherous than you know."

"You must know what really happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

"As must you. The answer lies in your memories, lost to the Nightmare when you last walked the Fade."

"Or you could just tell me."

She smiles. "Would you trust my words?"

I say nothing.

"Trust what you have seen."

"Then I'd like to know more about the Nightmare."

"It is not simply fear. It is the terror you cannot remember, the horror your mind erases to protect you. When old memories no longer make the veteran soldier's hand tremble, it is because the Nightmare has taken them. Most people avoid their fears. It is simple for the demon to steal the darkest fragments. They forget, and it feeds. Corypheus has helped it grow monstrous."

"It makes people forget the worst parts of their fears? It almost sounds like the Nightmare is helping people." Almost kind.

"Perhaps it was once. But now, it helps none but Corypheus. By his hand, it creates more fear and grows even stronger. In any case, robbing people of their fears is never a kindness. At best, it is a mistake borne of compassion. Without fear, and pain, and failure, we cannot learn. We cannot grow. As you cannot grow until you recover all that was taken from you."

Her words make me think of Cole, who flits in and out of existence to help those who need it. Taking memories that need to be taken. Like he'd done with me.

Does this mean that, maybe, I shouldn't have asked for him to take them away? Was I not able to grow, to learn, without that memory?

In any case, there is one memory I need back.

The wisps that had attacked us a few minutes ago lay in heaps on the pitching ground. The remnants of their beings float aimlessly, waiting for me to take them back. I reach for the nearest one.

"Bring forth the sacrifice."

The voice calls out deep in my mind but also echoing through the Fade. It makes me stop, look back at Solas with apprehension. He nods at me, motions for the next one.

"What's going on here?"

My voice. Strained. Confused. I go to the next one.

Divine Justinia calls out. "Why are you doing this? You of all people?"

Only one remains. I go to it, hesitating for only a moment before grabbing it.

My head throbs, a piercing pain stabbing deep behind my temples. The world disappears around me. Suddenly I see everything in my mind, remembering it fully for the first time but also watching as an observer.

Divine Justinia hovers high above in a large room surrounded by a group of…_Wardens_. Just like the glimpses of this so many months ago, her body swims with red energy, arms stretched out on either side. The Wardens hold their hands out to her, their hands glowing with the red energy that keeps her suspended in mid-air above them.

Corypheus's voice rings over them. "Now is the hour of our victory."

The Divine looks out at the Wardens, her face pained. "Why are you doing this? You of all people?"

Corypheus walks into the room, holding the Elvhen orb. "Keep the sacrifice still." The orb springs to life, growing green in his clawed hand.

"Someone help me!" The Divine screams, struggling against the energy around her.

I burst into the room, throwing open the doors. "What's going on here?"

Corypheus turns to look at me, his face sneering. The Divine looks to him while his back is turned to her, reaches out, smacks the orb from his hand.

The orb rolls across the room. I reach down, grab it with my left hand.

Pain shoots through me. Corypheus screams in anger, rushes me.

The orb explodes.

I blink, the memory fading. I'm still back in the Fade. Everything is much the same, save for the small hum in the background that wasn't there before. Apparently, we have all seen the memory. I can tell by the shocked looks on everyone's faces when I turn back to face them.

"So," Stroud sighs. "Your mark did not come from Andraste. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual."

This doesn't surprise me. I've always known. Only these silly humans tried so hard to believe that my power was more than just a misfired spell.

The Divine shifts on her feet. "Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City. Not for the Old Gods but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead."

"I never thought Andraste did this." I feel the smile on my face, the enthusiasm at _finally_ having this confirmed. "I did this myself, through my actions. No _Maker_ required."

The Divine continues to speak. "And now you may be certain. You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead."

She disappears.

I realize then that the deep hum is actually growling, far off in the distance. The Nightmare does know we're here now then, as she said. I turn back around, sighing.

"Something troubles you, Hawke?" Stroud says.

"I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision. Their actions led to her death."

Yes. I had almost forgotten. The Wardens had been there, had held the Divine down so Corypheus could sacrifice her. Again, my blood boils. The longer we work with, or against, them, the more I find myself hating the Wardens. How could they do this? What logic could they have used to convince themselves that their actions were justifiable?

_Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions… And it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions. _I find myself agreeing with Hawke's words.

"I assumed he had taken their minds, as you have seen him do before." Stroud shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose. "Come. We can argue after we escape this dark place."

Hawke glares at him. "Oh, I intend to."

Cassandra looks at me as the two of them walk away. "Could that truly have been the Most Holy?"

Solas leans against his staff. "We have survived in the Fade physically. Perhaps she did as well. Or, if it is a spirit that identifies so strongly with Justinia that it believes it is her, how can we say it is not?"

"And the Nightmare," Blackwall adds. "From what she said, I don't look forward to meeting it."

"Sounds like it preys on fear," Varric says. "Stealing people's memories. That's low, even for a demon. Memories make us what we are. A monster that takes them away? I don't want to think about that."

I feel a pang in my gut. Am I not me without the memories Cole took?

"Fear is a very old, very strong feeling," Solas says. "It predates love, pride, compassion… Every emotion…save perhaps desire." He looks at me. "Be wary. The Nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve."

"After what it did to my fellow Wardens, I pray we find some way to strike it down," Stroud says.

The others follow me down the path, the only direction we have left to go. It's hard for me to tell which wisps are friendly and which want to attack, so I do nothing unless they strike first. The other demons are easier to spot.

We reach another larger clearing. Above, the sky swirls just a bit differently than the rest. Had a rift once stood here?

"Ah. We have a visitor," a voice suddenly calls out. It's calm, distant, but holds much power and authority. The ground shakes with its words. "Some silly little girl comes to steal the Fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders."

We all stop moving. I grab Solas's hand, which he squeezes in return.

"You should have thanked me and left your Fear where it lay, forgotten. You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is _me_."

My heart beats hard against my ribs, but I continue to listen, this voice holding me captive in a very different way from how Solas does.

"But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten."

The voice fades away. Spirits and demons appear in the clearing, turning toward us with arms and claws extended toward us. I snap out of my trance immediately, grabbing my staff so I can dance my way across the room, casting my lightning down to turn the demons to dust.

I take a deep breath once they all fall.

"I expected worse," Blackwall says.

"These are but minor servants of the Nightmare," Solas says.

Blackwall spits on the ground. "Pity."

We move forward. I can't help but notice that shattered remains of Eluvians—ancient Elvhen mirrors used for travel—scattered throughout the land. My heart aches, seeing these ancient tools destroyed and abandoned so carelessly.

I'm so busy staring at one of these that I don't see the two spiders drop down to the ground ahead of us.

"What are those things?" Cassandra yells. This makes me jump, turn my attention back to the path.

Quickly, we take them down. No one says anything else, and I take the moment of silence to chastise myself for getting so distracted.

Up ahead, I see a corpse, frozen in time, burning. As they had been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

"Interesting," Solas mutters.

Farther up the path, the voice calls over us again.

"Perhaps _I_ should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition." It laughs. "Like Blackwall. Ah, there's nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are _nothing_ like a Grey Warden."

Blackwall huffs. "I'll show you a Warden's strength, Beast," he whispers under his breath.

Another Eluvian stands just ahead. More frozen and burning corpses circle it. When I walk close, the bodies explode and demons burst forth. I pull forth by blade, strike them down alongside my friends.

"Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra," the thing says after the demons have fallen. "Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your 'faith' has been for naught."

Cassandra laughs. "Die in the Void, demon."

I'm starting to get confused. The path ends, twists away from me. I take a moment, stop and breathe, try to concentrate on where we need to go.

"Focus," Solas whispers to me, grabbing my hand.

"Dirth ma, harellan," the voice speaks, making me jump. "Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din."

"Banal nadas," Solas hisses back.

Most of the Elvish they speak I do not understand, except for a few words. Why? Why can't I understand the whole? Was this some sort of ancient Elvish he'd learned in the Fade?

The few I do understand give me pause.

"'Harellan?'" I whisper. "Why does it call you that?"

"Do not listen," he whispers back. "It wants division, fear to feed from."

I suck in my lower lip, bite down on it. Of all the things the Nightmare could call him, why this? Why betrayer, _trickster_? I swallow hard, the motion painful. I blink, look away from Solas as his eyes pierce into mine, asking some question deep in their depths.

"Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric," the thing says as we move. "You found the red lyrium. You brought Hawke here…"

Varric smirks. "Just keep talking, Smiley."

I can't bring myself to look at any of them, now. I know if I look too deep into anyone's eyes, they'll see the fear there. See the questions brewing behind them.

"Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered?" It laughs. "You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Fenris is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about."

Hawke sighs. "Well, that's going to grow tiresome quickly."

Demons start to converge on us. All of them are the same: great wolves with six red eyes. They make my heart race. I know without a doubt who they represent. It surprises me, though. I thought I had gotten past my fear of the Dread Wolf. Thought I had come to terms with what Solas had said. Is it what the Nightmare had called him that relights this fear inside me?

"Those were little fears, tiny manifestations spawned from the Nightmare itself," Solas says after they all fall."

"And _of course_ they look like giant spiders," Hawke sighs.

"Spiders?" Cassandra says, stopping. "I see maggots, crawling in filth."

Blackwall shakes his head. "That is not what I saw either."

I swallow, my mouth dry. "For me, it was wolves."

Solas looks at me for a long moment before speaking. "Remember, we walk in the Fade. Demons of fear shape their appearance to unnerve each of us."

"Well, that's reassuring," Cassandra mutters.

I avoid Solas's gaze as we move forward. I know that he understands the meaning behind my fear, the wolves that no one else can see. I don't wish to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Finally, we reach yet another clearing and the Divine stands waiting for us.

"The Nightmare is closer now," she says. "It knows you seek escape. With each moment, it grows stronger." She motions to the path ahead, the demons freely roaming.

Among the demons are wisps, just like the ones that had released my memory. I know immediately that they're here for me, waiting for me to take back what was stolen. After they fall, their small flickers of light which hold sections of my memory safe hover, waiting for me. I reach out to the first one, hear a scream in my mind.

The second one brings the Divine's voice. "The demons!"

The third. "Keep running!" I yell.  
Finally, I grasp the last. The same piercing pain shoots through my head, making me bend over, close my eyes.

I'm crawling up a great, large pillar of stone, steps so steep that I cling for my life with my fingers and bare toes. The Fade swirls around me. Spiders chase me, legs scurrying across the stone much faster than I.

"This is the Breach back in Haven," I whisper to myself, to my companions watching just like with the last memory. "That's how we…how _I_ escaped."

At the top of the great pillar stands the Divine, reaching for me. "The demons!" She cries.

She pulls me up. We run toward the rift pulsing at the top. I look back at her, running feet behind me.

"Keep running!" I yell.

The Divine screams. I turn around, find one of the demons crawling over her, pulling her down the pillar. I gasp, reach for her, try to bring her back.

She shakes her head. "Go."

The demon wraps its many legs around her, pulling her out and into the sky. I stand frozen for just a second, just long enough for the rest of the demons to crawl up where I hesitate. I shake my head, turn toward the rift glowing behind me. I jump, my body light as air as I burst through into brightness.

* * *

**I didn't translate the bit of Elvish above because, well, spoilers. That and the Dragon Age Elvish page hasn't "officially" translated it. I also decided to speculate that he's speaking a dialect of Elvish that the Inky wouldn't understand. Otherwise, she would have been able to piece together the pieces a lot earlier :)**

**I hope everyone is having a great summer so far! I personally just finished beating KH3. I've been a fan of that franchise since it first came out in 2002, and let me tell you, what an emotional roller coaster ride that was!**

**Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and have been enjoying the story as a whole so far!**


	40. Nightmare

40 - Nightmare

When I open my eyes, I'm still in the Fade. I blink, look up at the Divine standing before me. "It was you," I whisper.

The Divine stares at me, her eyes tight.

"They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… She died."

The Divine hangs her head for a brief moment before looking back, nodding solemnly. "Yes."

"So this creature is simply a spirit," Stroud mutters.

Hawke laughs. "You don't say."

The Divine hangs her head again. "I am sorry if I disappoint you."

Her and Hawke stare at each other for a long moment. Hawke's hard expression softens, her eyebrows furrowing.

The Divine begins to glow, her skin melting away until a brightly glowing spirit hovers where she stood. It still holds the same shape of a woman but is made of pure light. It radiates warmth, a deep feeling of hope.

I take a step toward it. "Are you…her? Did you linger here to help me, instead of passing on?"

It still speaks with the Divine's voice. "If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one."

Hawke joins me. "What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the Temple…" She looks at Stroud. "Thanks to the Grey Wardens."

He shakes his head at her, eyes narrowing. "As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant."

"Assuming that the Wardens and their demon army didn't destroy the Inquisition while we were gone," Hawke retorts.

"How dare you judge us? You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!"

The two of them are face-to-face now. "To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic!" She waves her hand, taking a step back. "But you'd ignore that, because you can't imagine a world without the Wardens… Even if that's what we need!"

Solas nods his head. "Agreed. The Wardens may once have served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now."

Surprisingly, Cassandra hums an agreement. "The Wardens are a risk. Send them away before they cause even more trouble."

Blackwall holds up both his hands, his eyes narrowing. "What are you saying? You want to get rid of the Wardens? Everyone makes mistakes. They would've died to save us!"

I look at Varric, who shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you. There are a few good ones, but an awful lot of the Wardens I've known went crazy."

I sigh, step between Hawke and Stroud, extend my hand out to separate them. "This debate can wait until we're out of danger."

Both Stroud and Hawke look at me. Then their eyes widen.

"Inquisitor…" Hawke gasps, nodding behind me.

I turn around, watch as wolves drop into the clearing, howling.

"The Nightmare has found us," the Divine says, drifting up higher into the air. She then blinks out of existence, taking her blinding warm light with her.

Hawke and Stroud move to either side of me.

"Form up!" Hawke says. "I'm with you!"

We fight, the wolves—for me—circling us, continuously dropping down from the sky. I listen to Cassandra swing her sword, watch Blackwall bash them with his shield. Varric hovers back with Solas and I, his arrows flying across to lodge in their flesh. Solas, with his rift magic, conjures chunks of the Fade to throw at them, crushing them under their weight.

Solas leans on his staff once the wolves stop coming. "Come. Real or not, the Divine is the key to escaping from the Fade."

Farther in, the Nightmare speaks again. "Warden Stroud. How must it feel to devote your whole life to the Wardens, only to watch them fall? Or worse, to know that you were responsible for their destruction? When the next Blight comes, will they curse your name?"

Stroud growls. "With the Maker's blessing, we will end this wretched beast."

My feet throb as we move forward. How much farther can it be? How much more must we walk?

"Do you think you can fight me?" The voice booms. "I am your every fear come to life! I am the Veiled hand of Corypheus himself! The demon army you fear? I command it. They are bound all through me!"

The Divine hovers overhead. She laughs. "Ah, so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life."

It roars, the ground rumbling under our feet.

The Divine waves her hand, the barrier stopping our way dissolving into dust. Then she's gone, leaving the way open for us.

"I guess things just float whenever they feel like it here," Varric says. "Wonder what's up there." He nods toward the great expanse of land above us, unreachable. "Or maybe it's best we never find out."

A great lake, seemingly shallow however, spreads out to our right. Small veins of water cut through the land, weaving around pillars, making the ground beneath my feet slippery. Is this water natural to the Fade? Or, perhaps, drawn in through the rift at Crestwood? It holds a similar murky quality but I know I'll never get the answer.

"It's hard to trust my footing in this place," Cassandra moans.

We pass more Eluvians, more demons that we must fight. I wander, more curious about this place than I want to admit. Eventually, we stumble across what looks to be a small graveyard, headstones protruding from the rotted ground.

All of my friend's names are carved onto a headstone, alongside their greatest fear. I pause, look over them all, the friends with me standing frozen in front of the ones with their names.

Cole: Despair.

Blackwall: himself.

Solas: dying alone.

Sera: the Nothing.

Dorian: temptation.

Cassandra: helplessness.

Varric: became his parents.

Vivienne: irrelevance.

Iron Bull: madness.

Then mine: failure. I swallow.

I grab Solas's hand. "Let's go."

We go up more stairs, find another barrier standing in our way. The Divine already waits for us, holding her hand out toward the barrier to break it down.

"Look!" Blackwall calls out.

More small fear demons drop down. Quickly, we take them down. But then a pride demon comes around the corner, the ground shaking beneath its feet.

By the time we're done, all of us stop, take a moment to breathe. I wipe my forehead, cleaning away the sweat now clinging to my skin. I want nothing more than to just sit, to sleep for all eternity. But I stand back up, look at where the Divine weakens the barrier.

More demons continue to drift in. My hands shake, my legs wobble. My staff slips more in my grasp than normal as I spin.

Finally, the barrier falls and the demons stop coming.

The Divine waits for us, leads us down the path now open past where the barrier stood. An underground lake greets us, water dripping from the ceiling above, pulling the rock with it so it stretches toward the ground.

"You must get through the rift, Inquisitor," the Divine says. "Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons… And exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade."

The water in the lake is not deep. It barely comes to my calves.

"The rift!" Hawke cries. "We're almost there!"

"We're not there yet," Cassandra says. "Stay alert!"

Varric sighs. "Great, Hawke. Why not just dare the Old Gods to try and stop you?"

A great beast stands in the clearing ahead. It's absolutely massive: a grotesque spider the size of a small mountain. In front of it, hovering just a few feet off the ground, stands a fear demon. It's skeletal in form, with the upper and lower jawbones of a human. It has no eyes, an insect-like husk covering the rest of its body. Six spider legs protrude from its back, twitching and reaching toward us.

Blood pours from the sky like red waterfalls, turning the water below a deep and dark red.

The light of the Divine comes forward. "If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I am sorry. I failed you, too.'"

She pushes forward, flies toward both the fear demon and the giant spider behind it. The fear demon falls to the ground as her light strikes it. The spider—the Nightmare, I realize—stares her down, screeching.

The Divine explodes, her light blazing forth and blinding everything. We all back away, cover our eyes.

The fear demon rises, roaring to the sky before charging us.

I run forward, ignoring the pounding of my head, the aching of my bones. I spin my staff, call my blade forth.

"You cannot stand against me!" The Nightmare yells.

I'm sure as hell going to try.

Many smaller demons join the fight alongside the fear demon, pushing us back, keeping us from the rift I can see pulsing just up the hill. The fear demon shifts, changes to become what each of us fear the most. During it all, the Nightmare just stands, watching us, egging on the fear demon and taunting us with threats.

My legs start to wobble more violently. My arm no longer can hold onto my sword. The rest are similarly exhausted. I can tell by the way both Cassandra and Blackwall hold their shields, swing their weapons. Varric's arms shake under Bianca. Solas's feet slip across the rocks.

The fear demon falls, screeching as it turns to dust. The Nightmare screams in rage, backing away. Behind it stands the rift. Cassandra, Blackwall, Solas, and Varric run toward it, jumping through and disappearing. I look back at Stroud and Hawke, wave my arm at them to follow. We rush forward, run up the hill toward the rift.

The ground pitches, rumbling under my feet. The Nightmare steps in front of us, one of its long and hideous legs blocking the way to the rift as it screeches. I jump back, toward Hawke and Stroud.

"We need to clear a path!" Stroud yells.

"Go," Hawke says, pushing her hand into my back. "I'll cover you."

Stroud shakes his head, his brows furrowing. "No. You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must—"

"A Warden must help them rebuild! That's _your_ job!" Hawke turns toward the Nightmare. "Corypheus is mine."

Stroud growls, pushes us forward, pulling out his sword. "No." He turns to me, puts the sword to my throat. "Inquisitor."

Hawke backs away, her eyes wide, arms up in the air.

My heart drops, stomach churning. "Stroud," I whisper.

"It has been an honor," he says. He then runs forward, toward the Nightmare. "For the Wardens!" He yells.

He swings his sword at one of its legs, blood spraying into the air. Hawke and I run, dodging the Nightmare as it flails and lunges at Stroud. I look over my shoulder, see Stroud slashing his sword into the air, blood still spraying down on him from the Nightmare's wounds.

I turn my back, feeling my heart fall as I jump through the rift and out of the Fade.

* * *

When I stand, I'm back in the main hall, where the Wardens now fight against the demons that had been summoned by their fellow members. I look up at them, feel my blood start to boil as I look down at these people who let themselves be tricked so completely. These were not the heroes I had fawned over from Solas's story of Ostagar. Those men…they were long gone.

I reach up, feel my mark start to burn. The pain that rolls through my body is easily ignored, fueling the anger in my veins. The rift behind me bursts, explodes as it closes. The demons around us all scream, their bodies falling to the ground in large heaps.

The mage Wardens around me shake their heads, look around them as their fellows cheer. I step forward, stay silent as the Wardens' cries of victory echo around me. They ring hollow in my ears.

"She was right," Hawke says. "Without the Nightmare to control them, the mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army." She inclines her head at me. "Though as far as they're concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker."

I shake my head. "They came out of this alive. As far as I'm concerned, they can tell whatever stories they like."

"That's how legends get started," Hawke says. "Or, at least, that's what Varric always says."

One of the Inquisition soldiers runs up. "Inquisitor. The Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori Magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself."

I feel a rush of gratitude for Cullen.

"As for the Wardens, those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons."

One of the Warden soldiers walks up then, holding his hand across his chest. "We stand ready to help make up for Clarel's…tragic mistake."

I suck in a deep breath through my teeth. "It was more than merely a 'tragic mistake,'" I growl.

The Warden hesitates. "Where is Stroud?"

A complete and total silence brushes across my skin. Hawke lowers her head.

"Warden Stroud is dead, thanks to all of you," I growl. "He alone stood against Clarel's madness. If not for him, you'd be dead—or slaves to a servant of the Blight." My hands shake at my sides. "And you repaid that by branding him a traitor."

The Wardens shift on their feet, looking at each other uncomfortably.

"Inquisitor, we have no one left of any significant rank. What do we do now?"

Hawke looks to me, her eyes sad.

Something about their mistake hits me harder than anything I've seen so far. What they'd done, what they'd _willingly_ done, caused the death of a great woman. Caused me to be persecuted and almost killed after walking out of the Fade the first time. Threw Thedas into chaos.

I step forward, letting the anger rushing through me fuel my words. "You leave. There was one Warden among you who spoke up for what was right, and he's dead now. By the authority of the Inquisition, you are banished from southern Thedas." I nod my head toward Hawke. "Hawke will oversee your return to the Warden fortress at Weisshaupt."

Hawke lowers her head. The Wardens around me all exchange shocked looks.

"Yes, Your Worship," the Warden says, his voice shaking.

Blackwall steps forward, his eyes showing conflict. "Inquisitor. I would stay, if you allow it, and continue our fight."

"Of course," I say, softening my voice. "I have never doubted your loyalty, Blackwall."

I look back at Hawke, who bows. "Good luck, Inquisitor. It's been an honor." She looks back at Varric, standing behind her. "Take care of Varric for me."

"Of course," I say.

She nods, follows the Wardens as they start to pile out of the main hall.

My legs give out, finally no longer able to hold my weight. I let myself fall to the floor, burying my head between my knees as I let out one deep and painful sob.

* * *

**I decided in this chapter that my Inky wouldn't be the one to decide who stayed behind in the Fade. Even though it makes sense in a video game, it didn't make sense for the story. Why would the Inky be the one to decide who gets to stay behind? Why not the character themselves?**

**Which character did you guys choose to leave behind? Did you have Loghain, or Alistair instead? Was the choice hard?**

**Hope you guys enjoy!**


	41. Execution

41 - Execution

"What was she like?"

I turn toward Leliana—who stands at the edge of the rookery looking down—cocking my head to the side. Her back is to me.

"Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit that took her form. I read your report. I know it isn't clear, but…"

"She seemed…calm. Serene, even. And she guided us the whole way through."

She sighs. "That does sound like her."

"She did ask me to tell you something, though. She said, 'I'm sorry. I failed you, too.'"

She doesn't answer for a long moment but I watch her head hang. Suddenly, she lets out a small sob. "Oh." She stands straight, still with her back to me. "I should finish this before it slips my mind. Perhaps later we might discuss the matter further."

She finally turns around, walking toward me and the doorway behind me. Her eyes are full of tears that do not spill.

"Thank you," she whispers as she passes.

I turn, walk down the steps of the rookery toward the library. I have already spoken to Sera, Iron Bull, Cole, Vivienne, all of whom had heard what happened by the time we got back from Adamant. I had left Dorian for last, mainly because after him I planned on going down to Solas so we could talk about everything we had seen in the Fade in privacy.

Dorian looks at me as I walk up. He nods, goes back to pulling books off the shelf. "You have remarkably little here on early Tevinter history. All these 'gifts' to the Inquisition, and the best they can do is the Malefica Imperio?" He laughs. "Trite propaganda. But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it." He throws a look at the book in his hand and then scoffs, throwing it over his shoulder. I hear Solas down below yell in protest as it bounces off his desk.

I laugh. "I see. My library isn't up to your exacting standards?"

"It's alarmingly chaotic. I found a copy of the Aureballian in what seemed to be the Antivan Classics section."

I sit down in his usual chair. "How scandalous. Someone alert the Magisterium."

"You laugh, but in some places there are punishments for that. Did I see something by Genitivi here? I could have sworn…"

"What is this about, Dorian?"

"When everyone returned, they told us about your tumble into the Abyssal Rift. You went into the Fade. _Physically_ went in. Are you…all right?"

I hesitate, thinking before answering. "I learned a surprising amount. What happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, for one."

"Regained your memories." He smiles, just the smallest bit. "That's good, then?"

"I think so." I sigh. "I haven't been traveling the Fade in my dreams for long, you know. I've only done it a few times. To actually do it physically?" I shudder. "Like Varric pointed out, it was a dream come true…in some ways."

He laughs. "You do realize this feat hasn't been performed in over a thousand years? Corypheus and his contemporaries entered the Fade and began the Blights. In comparison…"

"So… I should be happy I accomplished something so grand, then?"

"Concerned, more like."

I sigh. "You're right. I'm not thinking straight. I was fortunate… Losing Stroud should have made that more obvious…"

"Indeed," he says. "If you can walk the Fade, others will try to follow. Who knows what secrets Corypheus has revealed? Not all of them will be so lucky as you. What they could unleash… My advice? Keep this quiet. Let them speculate. Too many will see this as a challenge."

"Wow, Dorian. You surprise me. What good advice."

He scoffs at me and then laughs. "There are enough idiots in the world who think if they just use enough blood magic, their problems will vanish. It's exactly the sort of thing I want to stop back home. This… This I don't need." He finally turns from me, stroking his chin as he looks over the books again. "What I _do_ need is a copy of the Liberalum. I'll wager I can find Corypheus's real name. If I can prove he was a grasping ankle-biter with no family to speak of? The luster would come right off."

"Then I'll leave you to your work."

He smirks at me. "I _do_ rather like watching you leave."

I laugh, wiggle my hips a bit. "Of course you would."

He waves. "Wish me luck."

I make my way down to Solas's rotunda, find him at his desk sketching his next mural. The book Dorian had tossed down lies on the floor at his feet. Solas's hand moves frantically across his parchment, fueled by what I know by the tenseness of his shoulders is anger.

He glances up at me as I walk in. He throws down his quill. "I cannot believe the Grey Wardens could even _conceive_ of such a plan. To seek out the Old Gods deliberately in some bizarre attempt to preempt the Blight…"

I reach down, squeeze his shaking hand. "I know. I'm glad we could end this madness before it started."

He sighs, slumping back into his chair. "Thank you. I've been on my own for so long. It's difficult to get used to having the support of others."

I feel a small stab that, even after all these months, he hasn't yet learned to trust my support.

"Those fools and duty," he continues. "Responsibility is not expertise. Action is not inherently superior to inaction." He looks up at me, rubbing his face. "Forgive me. The entire idea is…unnerving."

We haven't really spoken much since I banished the Warden's from Thedas and I feel it so deeply. I bite my lip, push the papers and books on his desk out of the way so I can sit directly in front of him. He raises his eyebrows as I slide toward him. "Unnerving, you say? I may be able to help you with that."

His mouth twitches, his eyes darkening. "Oh? How so?"

I'm still not used to how one look from him can set me so completely and utterly on fire. I lean forward, press my lips to his cheek. "Whatever you want," I whisper. "I am yours do to with as you wish."

I back away, holding his burning gaze until I turn away from him to make my way to my room. He follows only a couple minutes later. He takes complete and total control, commanding—not asking—me where to go and how to move. I can't help but think that his comment about seeing my focus dominated hadn't been as off-hand as he had originally let on.

And I relish every second.

* * *

My body is sore when I wake the next morning. I flinch as I sit up, rub my thighs where they throb. Slightly discolored patches spread across them, up my hips, to my waist. Perfect finger marks bruised into my skin.

Solas kisses my shoulder. "I apologize, vhenan. I may have gotten a bit…carried away last night."

I laugh. "I _did_ ask for it."

"That you did. I still apologize, however. I should have restrained myself for your sake."

"There's no need." I smirk, look at him over my shoulder. "Who knew you loved control so much?"

He chuckles. He sits up, runs his hands gently across my skin. Mana rushes from between his fingers, healing every patch of skin that bares his mark. It only takes a few seconds. He then kisses my neck before standing to dress. I watch him with my head on my knees. The last thing he puts on is the pendant around his neck.

He looks over at me as he adjusts it. "Yes?"

I smile. "Have I told you I love you?"

He blinks, his eyes unfocusing as he finishes placing the string exactly where he wants it. "I do not believe so, no. Not in so many words, at least."

"Well, then I love you."

His eyes soften. "As do I, my heart." He leans down, kisses me gently. "Now come. Before the Inquisition falls apart without your guidance."

I sigh, grab fresh clothes to dress. He waits patiently, watching as I had done with smirk on his lips. He then grabs my hand, holds it to guide me back downstairs.

Josephine walks up as I close the door behind us. "Solas. Your Worship." She inclines her head. "We have Erimond in custody for you to sentence."

"Already?"

She nods. "Yes. Shall I prepare him?"

My face flushes. "Yes. Bring him in."

* * *

"Adamant's influence continues, Your Worship." Josephine walks up to where I sit on the throne. "I submit Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, who remains loyal to Corypheus. We found him alive, offering extreme resistance, likely because the Order will ask for his head."

At this point, two soldiers drag Erimond into the room. He struggles against them, his eyes wild.

"In more colorful terms," Josephine continues. "To say nothing of justice you might personally require for what was suffered in the Fade."

I glare at him. "I'm struggling to understand how judging you can make up for anything that happened."

Erimond sneers at me. "I recognize none of this proceeding. You have no authority to judge me."

Josephine smiles. "On the contrary, many officials have communicated that they will defer to the Inquisitor on this matter."

"Because they fear.," Erimond says, shaking his head. He holds it high, spitting on the ground. "Not _just_ Corypheus, but Tevinter, rightful ruler of every piece of ground you've trod in your pathetic life. I served a living god. Bring down your blades and free me from the physical. Glory awaits me."

I clench my fists, barely keeping myself from standing to my feet. "Lord Erimond, any protection you thought you had has apparently been withdrawn. You will die. By my hand."

He laughs. "Petty actions. Truth lies in the next world."

The soldiers grab him, lead him out. I follow, Josephine behind me with the large sword I had been presented with when I accepted the role of Inquisitor.

Erimond is forced to his knees out in the courtyard. The people out there gather around, word spreading fast of what's to happen. Even a few of my friends come to watch: Iron Bull, Cole, Solas, and Sera. All four of them nod their heads in approval as I take the sword from Josephine.

I let my anger take me, fuel my hands as I grip the hilt of the sword. I raise it into the air, hold it high above my head for a brief moment. Then I swing it down, letting my rage give me power behind the blade.

One fluid movement is all it takes. Erimond's head falls to the ground, caught quickly by one of the soldiers who'd brought him out.

Then it's over. My first ever execution.

I hand the sword back to Josephine, who quickly nods and takes it away for cleaning. Soldiers converge on Erimond's body, dragging it away to be disposed of. I don't look at anyone, merely turn around and make my way back to the great hall.

Varric waits for me by the fireplace. His eyes are dark, brimming with sadness.

"I knew Stroud, you know," he says, not looking at me. "Not well. He led the Wardens near Kirkwall. Not many people knew who he was but the man was a hero when it mattered." He turns away from the flames. "He wasn't the first good man to fall to Corypheus. He won't be the last. This story's no good for heroes."

I try to smile, driving away the thoughts of the execution. "Some of us heroes will make it. We're just too amazing to die."

He laughs. "If we're both still standing at the end of all this, I'll buy the drinks." He sighs, turning away from me. "Hawke asked me to tell everyone back at Kirkwall where she's going. I'll have to let Fenris know. Maker, I'm glad I'm not doing this in person. Excuse me."

* * *

**I decided to throw in this little "sexy" scene because I believe the writer of his character (yay for mister Patrick Weekes!) once retweeted an article someone wrote about some of the more subtle aspects of his character, _including_ his dominate personality. It really got me thinking about that comment he has when you flirt with him one of the first times. Just like my OC thinks to herself, maybe it wasn't as off-handed as it seemed (or rather, like I made it out to be).**

**Also, just so you guys know, I'm going to start babysitting this coming Tuesday. I'll still be posting on Fridays, but it'll be when I have downtime so no guarantees it'll be posted as early as I have been doing. Some days it may be early, some days it may be before I go to bed. And if I happen to forget, I'll post on Saturday! Promise!**


	42. Revelations

42 - Revelations

The next few days I spend unwinding with all of my friends. Iron Bull asks me to hit him in the stomach with a giant stick to help chase away his fears of the demons. I oblige willingly, hitting him as hard as I can while egging his rambling on.

Blackwall seems out of sorts and I spend a day with him at the tavern, drinking while he tells me a story of his childhood. How he watched some other kids string up a puppy and did nothing as it squirmed. I can tell that something else is bothering him, but he won't tell me what.

Sera asks me to help her prank the advisors. I hesitate at first, but realize I need it, doing something so childish and un-Inquisitorish. We mess with Cullen by moving things around on his desk, Josephine by placing a bucket full of water over her door. When we reach the rookery to prank Leliana, however, Sera hesitates, unable to come up with anything good enough. This makes me laugh, watching her struggle to come up with something that won't get her in major trouble with our spymaster.

Then Solas's voice calls up from the stairway. "Who is up there?"

"Go!" I whisper, pushing Sera toward the only other door. We both run, giggling, and I hear Solas sigh from somewhere down below.

Afterwards, Sera and I relax in the tavern, laughing over what we've done. Then Josephine walks in, her head and shoulders soaked, and Sera runs from the room blaming everything on me. I can't help but laugh despite this when I see the look of exasperation on Josephine's face.

On my way out, the serenity of the last couple of hours comes to a halt. I can hear Solas and Cole arguing with each other as they walk down the steps to the courtyard.

"No," Solas says, walking away from Cole.

Cole stays right on his heel. "But you like demons!"

"I enjoy the company of spirits, yes, which is part of why I do not abuse them with bindings." Solas sees me walking toward them and stops. He discreetly motions for me to come over.

"It isn't abuse if I ask!"

Solas shakes his head, turning toward him. "Not always true. Also, I do not practice blood magic, which renders this entire conversation academic."

Cole sees me then. He veers toward me, his head lowered. "He won't bind me," he says, words fast. "He's a mage, and he likes demons, but he won't help."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "We just saw the Grey Wardens try to raise an army of demons. You want Solas to _bind_ _you_?"

"He has to!"

Cole stomps away from us both. Solas and I look at each other and walk after him.

"If Solas won't do the ritual to bind me, someone else could. Will! Like the Warden mages! And then…"

We catch up to where he stops, lowering his head.

"I'm not me anymore. Walls around what I want, blocking, bleeding, making me a monster." His voice, and body, shakes.

"Isn't it extreme for Solas to bind you? What if that takes away the part of you that makes you…you?"

"Helping makes me who I am. I help the hurting. That is what I do, all I do, am…me!" He points to himself, his voice hardening.

"And if binding you erases your mind?" Solas asks. "Your consciousness?"

"You wouldn't make me hurt innocent people. I don't want to hurt innocent people again."

I sigh. "There has to be some middle ground between 'do nothing' and 'bind Cole with blood magic.'"

"Indeed," Solas says, nodding. "I recall stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit wearing an Amulet of the Unbound was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well. The resources of the Inquisition could be used to find such a talisman."

Cole glares at him. "Good." He turns, stalking away. "They will not take me."

I look at Solas. "Will he be all right?"

"In time." He inclines his head. "If I were you, I would ask one of the advisors to seek out one of these talismans as soon as physically possible." His eyes dart back toward where Cole disappeared. "Before he goes too far."

I nod. "Don't worry. I won't let him hurt himself." I then frown. "I wonder why Cole didn't ask _me_ to bind him, instead. I am a mage as well."

Solas's eyes darken slightly. "Would you have if he'd asked?"

"Of course not. I would've gone to you first, to ask your advice."

He sighs. "Ah. Of course." He then smiles at me, his eyes lightening. "Out of curiosity, was that you I heard poking around with Sera in the rookery?"

I bite my lip, cover my mouth with my hand for just a moment to hide the twitch of my lips. "No. Why do you ask?"

He laughs. "You are a horrendous liar."

"Only with you."

"Yes. Quite." He cocks his head, and I imagine that if he had his staff, he would lean against it like he loves to do. "I am glad to see you having fun, no matter how childish the activity."

I purse my lips. "Pranks are not childish. They increase moral, give the people something to laugh at." Or whatever drivel Sera had said to convince me to join her. "You should have seen the people in the tavern before we started. None of them talking, just getting drunk without looking at each other, no interaction whatsoever… It was like watching a group of people who just…gave up."

His shoulders drop slightly. "Of course. You care too deeply for these people to watch them suffer."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not at all! It's just one of the many qualities about your spirit that I love."

Sera walks up then, rolling her eyes. "Ew. Elfy love things going on. Don't mind if I interrupt, do you?" She looks at Solas, grins at him. "Please say you do."

"Have you ever had any interest in learning magic, Sera?" Solas asks.

She takes a step back, clearly surprised. "Get off?"

"While it has not manifested naturally, there are ways to determine whether arcane gifts lie dormant within you."

I cough, trying to hide my smile. I can already see where he's going with this.

"What?" She squeals. "Don't make me think about that. I have to sleep at night!"

"Sleeping would give you the chance to explore the Fade. I could introduce you to spirits."

She smiles hesitantly. "Right, you're messing with me on purpose!"

He cocks his head, eyes full of mischief. "Why would I do that? It is not as though I know _who_ filled my bedroll with lizards."

She laughs. "Fair point! That was pretty good." She then freezes. "Wait, did you tell on me?" She asks, pointing her finger at me. "I thought we were having fun!"

"Of course I didn't tell him," I say, crossing my hands behind my back. "I wasn't even involved in that one, remember?"

"Oh, right." She then blows a raspberry. "Droopy-ears, stop distracting me! I had something important to tell Quizzy here!"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, of course. How important could this be, I wonder?"

She turns her back on him. "I found this in the barn." She holds out a piece of parchment.

It's a letter. From Blackwall.

_Inquisitor,_

_ You've been a friend and an inspiration. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former._

_ It's been my honor to serve you._

A shockwave rolls through my body. "Wait, he's not there? Why didn't you say anything when you first walked up?!"

"Who?" Solas says, suddenly tense.

"Blackwall." I hand him the note.

"No, he's not," Sera says, her eyes filling with tears. "What does this mean?"

"It means he's left," Solas answers. "But why? What for?"

I take the letter back. "I need to speak to Leliana. Now." I point to Sera. "Look for him, in all his favorite places. See if you can find any trace or clue to where he's gone."

She nods, runs off without another word.

I grunt, crumpling the paper in my hand. "Why didn't she say anything the moment she walked up?" I mutter.

"This is Sera you speak of. Did you expect any better of her?"

I glare at Solas. "Blackwall is her dearest friend here. Of course I expected her to say something instead of argue with you."

He just purses his lips.

I sigh. "I need to go to Leliana. I'll talk to you later."

* * *

"The spymaster has confirmed it. Blackwall is gone."

I blink a couple of times, staring at the scout in front of me in confusion. "Go on… Leliana knows here he is, doesn't she? She knows everything."

"She doesn't know everything. Yet." He holds out his hand. "Sister Leliana had us search the Warden's quarters. Not much to find, except this."

It's a page, torn out of a report.

"It was missing from last week's reports. I don't know what Blackwall's interest in this particular matter is, but it could be a good place to start." He leaves me then, standing in front of the barn where Blackwall usually is.

I sigh, look down at the page.

_Lieutenant Cyril Mornay, one of the soldiers responsible for the Callier Massacre of 9:37, was captured in Lydes. Like the others who were arrested for their involvement, Mornay insists that he was just following the orders of his captain. This captain, Thom Rainier, is still at large. Mornay is to be executed within the week in Val Royeaux._

I nod, folding the page and placing it in my pocket. Quickly, I grab my things, go to Solas, Sera, and Iron Bull for help. All of them agree without hesitation, packing their things and following me to the stables. Cassandra waves us along as we gallop through the gate.

We don't have much time to make it, I know this. Whatever seems to be important to Blackwall about this execution takes place soon. Solas and I put our magic together to make the horses move faster, help us all not to tire. It's not something I'd thought of doing at all the last few times we needed to move quickly, but none of us had been thinking clearly during those times.

It's raining in Val Royeaux by the time we make it. Despite this, people are gathered in droves around the gallows.

"Cyril Mornay," the bailiff standing next to the nooses says. "For your crimes against the Empire of Orlais… For the murders of General Vincent Callier, Lady Lorette Callier, their four children, and their retainers… You are sentenced to be hanged from the neck until dead. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The man standing behind him says nothing. His wrinkled face is mangled, riddled with scars both old and new. His eyes are full of sadness.

"Very well."

The man is brought forward.

"So we're just waiting for Blackwall to turn up, right?" Iron Bull asks.

Sera shakes her head. "Poor bastard. So! Where's food? Orlesians always stock these things."

A bag is placed over Mornay's face.

"Proceed," the bailiff says.

Still, Mornay stays quiet. He just sighs as the noose is looped over his head.

"Stop!"

Blackwall appears, walking up the ladder toward the men standing on the gallows.

"A Grey Warden," the bailiff says, shaking his head.

"This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him," Blackwall says, looking over the crowd. "Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake!"

"Then find me the man who gave the order."

Blackwall looks at me.

Realization hits me like a punch in the gut. "Blackwall!" I scream.

"No," he says, shaking his head. His voice quavers. "I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am."

Mornay's eyes widen. "You, after all this time…" he mutters.

"It's over," Blackwall sighs. "I'm done hiding." He turns back to the crowd. "I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier."

The people in the crowd gasp, jumping back from him. The bailiff lets Mornay go.

Blackwall doesn't look away from me for a long moment. Not until the guard touches his back. He then inclines his head, goes with them willingly.

"No," I whisper.

Sera grabs my hand. "This… We can't let this happen. It's bonkers, yeah?"

I stalk up to the bailiff, who stands on the gallows, clearing away the small mess from the halted execution. "Where is the prisoner?" I ask.

"In the jail off the marketplace. If you've goodbyes to say, say them now. He's to hang for his crimes against a noble and his family."

Sera shakes her head violently, turning away to scream.

"It's a damned mess," he continues, ignoring her curses, "but believe you me, it'll be sorted out quick. Lots of people can't wait to see that man swing."

My stomach churns and I turn away from him, toward the marketplace. My friends follow, all their faces somber, distraught. They wait just outside the door, sitting down in silence.

Blackwall is held in the deepest, darkest cell. I know he hears me approach, but he does not look up at me. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed, his face turned toward the ground. I stare at him for a long few seconds, watching his stoic face.

"I didn't take Blackwall's life," he finally says. "I traded his death. He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man." He finally inclines his head just the slightest bit toward me. "But a good man, the man _he _was, wouldn't have let another die in his place."

I walk forward, place my head against the bars of his prison. "I called you a friend. I trusted you. You lied."

"You thought I was Blackwall. I didn't want to tell you otherwise. As Blackwall, I was something. I had a purpose. I could make amends." He opens his eyes, looks at me. "Why are you here?"

I sigh. "I needed you to know you aren't alone in this."

He shakes his head, stands. "Don't you understand?" He rushes forward, grabs the bars, rattles them. I take a step back. "I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing! When it came to light, I ran. Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!"

I step farther back, away from him.

"_This_ is what I am! A murderer, a traitor…a monster." He sinks to the floor, sobbing.

I sit down on the floor across from him, reach through the bars to take his hand. "I know you're more than what you say. Have some faith in yourself."

He looks up at me, eyes bloodshot. He says nothing, just squeezes my hand before letting it go.

"Who were you before this mess?"

He swallows. "I was a captain in the Orlesian army. Well-regarded, respected, but it wasn't enough. One mistake. One mistake, and everything I worked for fell apart."

We talk, him spilling all his past and truths to me like a flood. How he was recruited by Blackwall to join the Wardens. How they were ambushed by darkspawn on their way to his Joining and Blackwall took a killing blow to save him. Then how, as a result, he took on Blackwall's identity so his good deeds could live on.

Then he tells me of his crime. He was offered a substantial amount of gold by a chevalier to kill a noble and his family—loyal supporters of Empress Celene. The noble's family was killed merely because they didn't expect them to be there when the attack happened and Rainier's men had been told to eliminate everyone. But his men weren't told who they were attacking, just that it needed to be done. After the act was completed, the chevalier was condemned and Rainier named traitor.

"There was no need for what I did," he finishes.

We only stop when a guard comes in and tells me it's time for me to leave.

When I make my way up to the top of the cells, Cullen is there waiting for me.

"I have Leliana's report on Thom Rainier," he says.

I reach out, take the report from him. I merely glance at it, not taking in the words on the page. "Give me the overview," I say. I want to know what Leliana had found and how it differs from Blackwall's—Rainier's—version.

"Looks like our friend was once a respected captain in the Imperial Orlesian Army. Before the Civil War, he was turned, persuaded to assassinate one of Celene's biggest supporters. He led a group of fiercely loyal men on this mission, and told them nothing of it. His men took the fall for him. A few lucky ones, like Mornay, managed to escape."

I nod. "This is helpful. Or at least educational."

Cullen's eyebrows furrow. "Don't blame yourself. We all made this mistake." He sighs deeply. "What do we do now?" He pauses, looking back down the hallway toward where Rainier is held. "Black…Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don't have to. We have resources. If he's released to us, you may pass judgment on him yourself."

"If it were up to you, what would happen?"

Anger flashes across his face. "What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. I despise him for it." He hesitates, the anger in his face dissipating. "And yet he fought as a Warden. Joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?"

"He wanted to change. To prove that he'd really left his past behind, he had to face up to it."

"Saving Mornay the way he did took courage. I'll give him that. But I can't tell you what to do."

I don't hesitate in my answer. "Have Rainier released to us."

He nods. "We must move quickly."

"Then send word to the others. Have Leliana work her magic to get him out of here."

* * *

"For judgement this day, Inquisitor," Josephine says, her voice somber, "I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall."

Rainier is brought in, his head hung low. He struggles a little against the guards holding him. He is thrust forward. He doesn't look up.

"His crimes… Well, you are aware of his crimes. It was no small expense to bring him here, but the decision of what to do with him is now yours."

It goes quiet. Rainier still refuses to look up at me.

"I didn't think this would be easy," I whisper. "But it's harder than I thought."

"Another thing to regret," Rainier mutters, shaking his head. He finally looks up, eyes locking with mine. "What did you have to do to release me?"

"Josephine called in a few favors. There are enough people out there who owe the Inquisition."

"And what happens to the reputation the Ambassador has so carefully cultivated? The world will learn how you've used your influence. They'll know the Inquisition is corrupt."

"I wish there'd been another way," I sigh. "But my options were limited."

He narrows his eyes, brows furrowing and lips pursing. "You could've left me there! I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?"

I take a moment to think. No matter his crimes, he has been a good friend to me here, to Sera. I can't forget that.

"You have your freedom."

"It cannot be as simple as that."

I shake my head. "It isn't. You're free to atone as the man you are, not the traitor you thought you were or the Warden you pretended to be."

"The man I am?" His voice is thick, full of confusion. "I barely know him. But he—_I_ have a lot to make up for." He closes his eyes, takes a deep and long breath. "If my future is mine, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. My sword is yours." He looks back at me. "If I'd said anything less, would an arrow from the rookery have snuffed me like a candle?"

I don't answer the question. "Take your post, Thom Rainier."

He raises his eyebrows, and then bows his head, turning his back on me so his shackles can be unlocked.

"Don't mess this up, Rainier," I say.

He does not respond.


	43. Wicked Grace

43 - Wicked Grace

Rainier, over the next few days, insists that I keep referring to him as "Blackwall."

"I've gotten used to 'Blackwall,'" he says. "Perhaps we could treat it as less of a name and more of a title. Almost like 'Inquisitor.' Reminds me of what I ought to be."

Sera is absolutely thrilled with me at this point. Blackwall is her closest friend in the Inquisition, and the fact that I had pardoned him makes her happier than I've ever seen her.

I get a surprise a few days later in the form of a small Dwarven woman talking with Varric. She introduces herself as Bianca Davri and I give Varric a look that makes him look away with a smirk.

She leads us to the mine Corypheus is getting his red lyrium supply from. They banter back and forth as we clear the Carta out of the mine and it makes me giggle, listening to them try so hard not to flirt too obviously with each other.

Then she drops a bombshell. _She_ is the one supplying Corypheus with the red lyrium.

She had hired a few people to help her research the red lyrium—to help Varric she claims—but hadn't realized that one of them worked for Corypheus. Despite this, she has a shocking revelation for everyone about the red lyrium.

"It has the Blight, Varric! Do you know what that means? Lyrium is alive! Or…something like it. Blight doesn't infect minerals. Only animals."

She came to Varric so she could lock up the mine and atone for her mistake. Varric is distraught at the news and suddenly I find myself liking the crossbow Bianca a lot more than the woman it is named after.

I help the advisors with a few personal missions: Cullen to track down Samson—one of the Templars working with Corypheus; Josephine to reinstate her family's trading status in Orlais; Leliana to help find a gift left behind for her from the Divine, which turns out to be a message releasing her from her duties as the Left Hand.

The entire time, I wait for word on Corypheus. What is his next move? Where is he at? What is he planning?

An amazing distraction from my worrying comes one day when Varric steps in front of me as I leave Solas's rotunda.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you. You're just in time. We almost had to start without you."

"What exactly were you starting without me, now?" I ask.

He beckons me to follow. "Wicked Grace!"

I hesitate. I know that Solas is currently in his rotunda, considering I'd just dropped him off after spending some…quality time with him. "Is Solas not allowed to come? Considering his expertise at the game?"

"He can come if he wants. He wasn't there when I went in to ask." He waggles his eyebrows at me knowingly, which makes me sigh. I immediately turn and head back the way I came.

I know Solas heard the brief exchange, mainly by the look on his face when he looks up at me.

"So, do you want to join?" I ask.

"I do not think the others would like me to join."

"You don't have to play. Just come sit with me. Please?"

Solas stares at me for a long moment, his eyebrows raised. He finally smiles. "If you wish."

I clap excitedly but quickly stop when I realize how childish it must look. He laughs at me anyway.

We make our way across the courtyard, to the tavern, Varric leading. Solas whispers to me the whole walk, holding my hand and playing with my palm.

"Look who showed up, everybody!" Varric says as he throws open the tavern door.

Most of my friends are there, along with Cullen and Josephine. Only Leliana and Vivienne seem to be missing.

Blackwall stands to his feet. "Oh no. I am _not_ playing against Solas. If he's playing—"

"I am not," Solas says, taking a seat on the ground next to the fire a couple feet from me. "I am here merely to watch." He then throws me a look and I stick out my tongue at him.

"You're not allowed to help her," Iron Bull grunts, pointing his finger at him.

Cullen raises his mug at me, his arm a bit wobbly, which makes me laugh.

"Deal her in, would you, Ruffles?" Varric says.

Josephine looks absolutely giddy. "I do hope I recall the rules. It's been ages since I've played a game of Wicked Grace."

"Are we playing cards or what?" Iron Bull says, popping his neck and rolling his shoulders.

"Are three drakes better than a pair of swords?" Cassandra asks a bit too loud. She then moans in disgust. "I can never remember."

"Seeker, remember when I said, 'don't show anyone your hand?'" Varric laughs. "That rule includes announcing it to the table."

Cole is staring intently at the cards in his hand. "There's a crown on his head, but a sword, too. His head didn't want either."

"Don't talk to the face cards, kid," Varric mutters with a chuckle.

Sera is quiet at the far end of the table, near Cullen, pounding down her mug so it sloshes down her front unabashedly.

Cullen stands nervously. "You seem to have enough people. I have a thousand things to do."

Dorian shakes his head at him. "Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming. Give it a try."

"Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it's you."

Cullen scowls at Varric before sitting back down.

Josephine shifts in her chair. "Dealer starts. Ooh… I believe… I'll start at…three coppers!" She hesitates. "Do you think that's too daring?" She looks down at her cards, frowning. "Maybe I'll make it one… No! Boldness! Three it is!"

Iron Bull slams his fist down on the table. "Seriously? Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home."

Blackwall tosses coins in the middle of the table. "Sounds good. I'm in."

Dorian smirks, stroking his mustache. "Bolder the better, right? I'm in."

"Me, too," Varric says, throwing in his share. He looks at me. "Well? Are you in?"

"Of course," I say, leaning forward. "Deal me in, Josephine."

Cole is staring at his handful of coins. "So shiny…" he says, stroking the metal.

We start, holding gazes, trying to read each others tells. Solas watches in silence, his head back against the stone behind him but his eyes on me.

Cullen starts to finally loosen up, venturing into a story about a Templar recruit, who'd ended the night on the bad end of a bet.

"The poor recruit ran out of the dining hall in nothing but his knickers," he says, barely containing his laughter. "And this…profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages and thirty Templars all turned to stare at once. Then a slow round of applause began. And spread until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation."

Josephine's face is red with joy. "What did he do?"

"Saluted. Turned on his heel. And marched out like he was in full armor."

Everyone looses it. Laughter drowns out all other noises floating down to us from above. Even Solas shakes his head and ducks to bury his face in his hands.

"He did not!" Cassandra yells, throwing her hands down to slam against the table.

"Good man," Dorian says, raising his mug into the air before taking another swig.

Iron Bull's voice wavers through his laughter. "You're shitting us!"

"That's how you know it's true," Varric says, smirk on his face. "I could never put that in a book. Too unlikely."

"I've got one for you," I say, raising my hand a bit foolishly. "The clan decided to camp near this ruined fortress. Right on the edge of the Tirashan. Dark as the bottom of a well. The Keeper swore up and down it was safe, but some of the hunters started hearing noises in the middle of the night. One of my friends came to me, asking for help, considering I was the First. I agree, grab my staff and some things, just in case there was danger.

"We get to the small temple. We find a group of shemlen teenagers running completely naked through the clearing, throwing rocks and debris at each other. My hunter friend pointed out their clothes, tossed aside near the entrance. We smirked at each other, knew exactly what the other was thinking. He cloaked himself, slipped up to where the clothes lay, and grabbed them. We then sat in the trees, whispering to each other, wondering what kind of prank we should play on them that, hopefully, kept them away from our camp for a few days.

"My friend started making animal calls, grabbing their attention, but not enough to make them run away quite yet. Just enough to make them nervous. Finally, once they realize their clothes are all gone, I stand up, my cloak wrapped up and over my head, and call out in the deepest voice I can muster, setting my staff aflame. I scampered toward them, yelling profanities and nonsense about the Maker. They ran out of there, fast as you think, bare arses shining in the moonlight. The whole way back to their village."

Varric laughs. "Not bad! You don't mind if I steal that one, do you?"

"That was _scandalous_," Josephine gasps. "It would ruin the Inquisition if anyone found out." She pauses, smile creeping up her face. "Tell it again!"

"No!" Sera cries out. "No, she needs to sing for us! Like she did last time!"

I feel my face redden. "No, not happening."

"Oh, come _on,_" Iron Bull groans. "We've been trying to get you to do it again for weeks. Just suck it up and do it already!"

I sigh, lean my head into my hands as they all start to cheer for me, begging me to perform. I look at Solas out of the corner of my eye, find him smiling in encouragement at me. Finally, against my better judgement, I stand with a grunt and walk over to the minstrel, whispering to her what song I would like played. Josephine claps enthusiastically.

I turn toward them, scowling slightly, before closing my eyes and letting the words come.

"Once we were in our peace

with our lives assured.

Once we were

not afraid of the dark.

Once we sat in our kingdom

with hope and pride.

Once we ran through the fields

with great strides.

We held the Fade

and the demon's flight

so far from our children

and from our lives.

We held together the fragile sky

to keep our way of life.

Once we raised

up our chalice in victory.

Once we sat

in the light of our dreams.

Once we were in our home-land

with strength and might.

Once we were

not afraid of the night.

We held the Fade

and the demon's flight

so far from our children

and from our lives.

We held together the fragile sky

to keep our way of life."

It's completely silent by the time I stop. Everyone in the tavern is looking at me, mouths open, eyes unfocused. Even Solas looks at me with eyes burning, brows furrowed.

"Another!" Sera suddenly yells, throwing her mug up.

"No," I mutter, feeling my neck burn.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She starts to chant, slamming her feet in rhythm. She raises her arms, encouraging both Dorian and Iron Bull to join.

I look at the minstrel, who smiles and winks at me out of the corner of her eye. I smile back, knowing what she's going for without having to ask.

"Okay, fine," I say, throwing my shoulders back.

The minstrel starts playing and Sera goes still almost immediately.

"Sera was never an agreeable girl—

Her tongue tells tales of rebellion."

My words get drowned out slightly as everyone at our table starts to laugh. Sera's face turns beet red. I don't let it stop me, keep singing the song the minstrel wrote for Sera a long time ago. Sera slowly sinks into her chair, sliding down and underneath the table, where she stays even after I finish the song. All of us laugh and I briefly let Solas discreetly run his hand across my thigh before I sit back down at the table.

"I think it's our professional storyteller's turn to tell one," I say, wanting attention off of me for a bit.

"I think I can manage that," Varric says, grasping his hands in front of him. "Did I ever tell you about the time we broke into Chateau Haine? It started, as most capers do, with a trap…"

Varric stands up a few minutes later, raising his mug into the air. "And then Hawke looks up and says, 'looks like the duke…has fallen from grace.'"

Cullen cackles like a child, slapping his knee.

"_That's_ how Duke Prosper died?" Josephine asks, her eyes wide. She then nods, her face serious. "You know, that's almost perfect for him."

"Deal us another hand, Josephine!" I say, grabbing her attention.

"Oh, of course! Cards, sorry! Varric took the last hand. Is everyone ready to ante up?"

* * *

"And the dealer takes everything!" Josephine laughs. "I win again."

Cullen leans forward, his eyes a bit hazy. "Deal again. I've figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador."

"Commander! Everyone knows a lady has no tells."

"Then let's see if your good fortune lasts one more hand."

I sigh. "I want another chance to win my dignity back. Deal me in."

Josephine plays wonderfully. Cullen eventually makes his way through all his coin, tossing items of clothing in the middle of the table instead. Varric warns him, over and over, to just fold and leave with his dignity, but Cullen won't have it. Solas, seemingly uninterested in the proceedings up until then, leans forward with a smirk on his face to exchange a look with me.

Less than twenty minutes later, Cullen sighs, his face red, as he reaches under the table and pulls off his underthings. He tosses them up as well and then throws Varric a look.

"Don't say a word, dwarf."

Josephine smiles at him mischievously.

"I tried to warn you, Curly," Varric chuckles.

"Never bet against an Antivan, Commander," Josephine says.

Cassandra shakes her head, smile on her face. "I'm leaving. I don't want to witness our commander's walk of shame back to the barracks."

Dorian opens his eyes wide, raising his eyebrows. "Well, I do!"

Cole looks away from Cullen, his cheeks red. "It comes off. I didn't know it came off…"

Cullen sits there, sulking, refusing to move until everyone stands to leave. Iron Bull is passed out at the table and is the only one who doesn't move. Sera is no where in sight, probably still under the table from earlier. I give Cullen a look and he scowls.

When my back is turned, I hear his chair scoot out, bare feet scurrying across the floor. I hear Iron Bull cheer and then a loud thud as, presumably, he passes back out.

Varric looks back at me once Cullen is gone. "I'm glad you decided to join us tonight. It's too easy to mistake you for the Inquisitor."

"I enjoyed this," I laugh.

Solas stands next to me, grabs my hand.

"See? That's what I mean. It's easy to forget you're not just an icon or symbol, like those statues of Andraste holding bowls of fire. At least it is for me. You up for another game when this is all over, Freckles?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"Good. It'll take me awhile to talk Cullen into it. Maybe I'll work the 'revenge' angle."

As Solas and I walk away, I remember Sera. I turn around in time to see her stir under the table, managing to stumble even when laying on her side.

"Whozat!" She calls. "Did I win?"

* * *

**Hello everyone! Sorry I didn't post last week. My husband had (a very minor) surgery last Friday and I had an appointment myself on Saturday, so I just focused on relaxing. Totally didn't realize I hadn't posted until mid-way through this week.**

**I almost forgot to write this chapter! When I was going through and getting everything written down, I realized at this point that I hadn't yet done the Wicked Grace scene. I tried to squeeze it in earlier, since I hadn't posted up to that far yet, but it just didn't flow as well. But this felt like a good place to stick it. Kinda like the last supper or something lol. I also decided to make Solas come along just to watch 'cause, even though it's totally out of character for him to come, I knew my Inky wouldn't take no as an answer from him. And he would know that too :) I honestly wish you had that option in-game as a romanced Inky to ask him to come watch at least... *sigh***


	44. Beginning of the End

44 - Beginning of the End

Leliana tells me she managed to find one of the amulets I had requested for Cole. Immediately, I take it to him, ask him if he would like to put it on.

"Yes!" He exclaims, showing more emotion than I've seen him display for quite some time. "But not here. I like it here. We need someplace that can go away if it becomes sharp."

We make our way to Solas, Cole quiet but hope blazing in his pale eyes. As soon as we walk in to the rotunda, Cole walks toward Solas.

"What do I do with it?" He asks.

Solas is sitting at his desk but turns at the sound of Cole's voice. He stands, clasping his hands together. "You found one of the amulets. Excellent. May I?" Cole hands him the stone. Solas examines it for a moment, smile on his face. He cocks his head to the side. "It is simple enough. You put it on, I charge it with magic, and you should be protected."

"Are you ready, Cole?" I ask.

He doesn't answer for a moment, staring at his feet. He nods, looks up. "They can't make me a monster."

Solas hands the amulet back. Cole slips it over his neck, tucks it in his shirt. Solas then reaches out, closes his eyes as his hand pulses with mana. The amulet starts to glow a brilliant blue, even through the fabric of Cole's shirt.

Two things happen at once. Solas's eyes spring open in shock and Cole jumps back, crying out in pain. A burst of light flashes through the room before the amulet goes dark.

Varric walks into the room seconds later. "What was that?" He looks at the three of us standing there, Cole rubbing his head. "Oh, for… What are you doing to the kid?"

Cole turns to him. "Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn't work." The last words drip with sadness from his lips.

"Something is interfering with the enchantment," Solas says, crossing his arms behind his back.

"Something like Cole not being a demon?" Varric says, narrowing his eyes.

I hesitate. "Solas, is it possible that the amulet doesn't work on Cole because he's too…human?"

He sighs. "Regardless of Cole's special circumstances, he remains a spirit."

"Yes," Varric mutters. "A spirit who is strangely like a person!"

Cole throws his arms up in frustration, begins to pace around the room. "I don't matter. Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow."

Solas follows him in his frantic footsteps. "Focus on the amulet. Tell me what you feel."

Cole goes quiet, closing his eyes and lowering his head. He begins to twitch, his head moving back and forth. "Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears, I'm the wrong shape, there's something…" He looks up, his eyes unfocused. He turns, points off in the direction of Cullen's office. "There. That way."

I nod. "We'll find whatever is preventing the amulet from working, and we'll make it right."

Varric uncrosses his arms, spreads his stance. "All right, kid. Get Cullen and work with him on the map to figure out where you're sensing something wrong."

Cole turns to us, his face warm with conflict. "Will you come with me? All of you?"

"Sure," Varric says.

Cole leaves. The three of us stand there for a minute in silence, waiting for him to leave.

Varric walks up to Solas. "All right. I get it. You like spirits. But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one."

Solas turns to him, purses his lips.

"Cole is a demon…or a spirit," I say. "He has magical abilities and magical vulnerabilities. We cannot ignore that."

Varric sighs. "Fair enough. But that ritual of theirs only works on demons, right?"

Solas sneers just the slightest. "This is not some fanciful story, Child of the Stone. We cannot change our nature by wishing."

"You don't think?"

A shadow crosses Solas's face, but is gone by the time he shakes his head. "However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment."

It only takes a few hours for Cole to track down on the map where we need to go. Whatever is interfering with the amulet is near Redcliffe. All four of us set out before nightfall.

When we arrive a few days later, Cole leads the way for us. We make our way through Redcliffe, to the statue of the Hero of Ferelden at its center. A man approaches us as we get close, fidgeting with his hands.

"Greetings," he says. "Can I help you?"

Cole goes still. I watch as rage distorts his features, hardening them. "You," he whispers.

In a flash, Cole is gone and then bares down on the man, holding him down with one hand, holding the other above his head, ready to strike.

"You killed me!"

The man trembles below him, holding his hands out in surrender. "What. I don't… I don't even know you!"

"You forgot. You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark!"

"The Spire?!"

The three of us run up to him.

"Cole, stop!" Solas yells.

Cole jumps in surprise and the man runs away, disappearing around the corner. Cole clenches his fists, starts to go after him.

"Just take it easy, kid," Varric says, stepping in front of him.

"He killed me!" Cole yells, gesturing after the man. "He killed me. That's why it doesn't work. He killed me, and I have to kill him back!"

"I… If he killed you," I mutter, "wouldn't you be dead?"

Solas grabs Cole's arm, keeps him from running off. "Cole, this man cannot have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body."

Cole lowers his head, starts to twitch. "A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dark dank, a captured apostate. They threw him into the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux."

All of us exchange looks. Varric shakes his head, closes his eyes and angles his head downward.

"They forgot about him. He starved to death."

Solas doesn't look away from Cole. His eyebrows knit together but otherwise his face remains stoic.

"I came through to help…and I couldn't. So I became him. Cole."

Varric sighs. "If Cole was an apostate, that'd make the guy we just saw a Templar. Must've been buying lyrium."

Cole starts to shake again. "Let me kill him. I need to… I need to." He slowly starts to walk away, but doesn't disappear.

I clench my staff. "Before we decide anything, I need a clearer picture of what happened."

Solas rubs his forehead. "It seems the real Cole was an apostate, captured and taken to the Circle by Templars."

"Who aren't known for their gentle nature," Varric adds.

"As the young man starved to death in a dungeon, his pain caught the attention of a spirit. One of Compassion."

"Compassion?" Varric asks.

"An uncommon spirit, certainly…and all too fragile, when its efforts to help proved to be in vain."

I look at Varric, raising my eyebrows.

"The kid's angry," he says, answering my silent question. "He needs to work through it."

"A spirit does not work through emotions," Solas says, his voice hard. "It embodies them."

"But he isn't a spirit, is he? He made himself human, and humans change. They get hurt, and they heal. He needs to work it out like a person."

Solas is starting to lose his composure. "You would alter the essence of what he is."

"He did that to himself when he left the Fade. I'm just helping him survive it."

I look at Solas, surprised at his anger. I know without a doubt it's mostly from Varric's calm composure through all this. Solas does best with people angry at him, not calmly discussing such things.

"We cannot let Cole kill the man," Solas whispers to me.

"I don't think anyone was going to suggest that, Chuckles."

"Cole is a spirit. The death of the real Cole wounded him, perverted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive."

Varric grunts in frustration. "Come on! You don't just forgive someone _killing_ _you_."

Solas finally sighs, the anger in his features starting to ebb away. "_You_ don't. A spirit can."

I sit down, right there on the grass, letting out a deep breath. Solas is right. Cole is a spirit, and he should stay that way. "Cole needs to let this go."

The anger completely disappears from Solas's face. He smiles at me and then walks after Cole, who seems to be waiting for us to decide what to do. "I believe I can help. Cole, come with me."

Varric and I wait patiently, watching in the direction they go. A few minutes later, the Templar comes back, his face holding that confused quality that someone gets when they come into contact with Cole and his powers. We look at each other, both stand, make our way toward where he came from.

We find both Solas and Cole walking along the path, talking. Varric walks up to them. "You all right, kid?"

"Yes," he mutters. He's glowing with a strange and ethereal light. "He's free. We're both free."

* * *

"The amulet appears to be working," Solas says as we all walk back into his rotunda a few days later. "Cole should be adequately protected."

Varric glares at him. "Have you talked to him since? Have you heard what he sounds like?"

Solas shrugs. "He sounds like a spirit."

I nod in agreement. I've heard enough spirits talk in the Fade these last few months to see the patterns.

Cole suddenly appears on Solas's desk, papers scattering onto the floor. "Nonsense words, like Bartrand at the end. 'Just need to hear the song again. Just for a minute.' I'm all right, Varric."

"What matters is his happiness," I say, smiling at him. "Cole, how are you feeling?"

"I am well. There is work, wounded to help, hurts to heal. But the weight is off. The old chains have fallen."

"You're not still angry with the man who hurt you?" Varric asks, shaking his head.

"No. I helped him forget. His pain no longer pulls at me. A woman with two names slips a knife in darkness to a left hand. Honey stirred into Leliana's wine. Faith, not revenge."

Then he's gone.

Varric sighs, his eyes dark with sadness. "He could have been a person."

"Possibly," Solas says. "Would that have made him happier, Child of the Stone?"

* * *

Finally, the advisors call to me and say they're ready to discuss our next move. I don't beat around the bush when I walk into the War Room, instead getting right to the point. "It's time to plan our next attack. What's the state of the Inquisition?"

Josephine stands up from her chair, where she'd been sitting while waiting for me to arrive. "Our alliance with Orlais holds. Briala is in our debt, a feat she will not forget. They'll send aid on request."

"And your actions at Adamant denied Corypheus his army of pet demons," Cullen says. "With Orlais' support, our numbers match his. Corypheus's followers must be panicking."

Leliana nods. "My agents agree. Our victories have shaken his disciples."

I smile. "We've beaten their 'god' twice over. Corypheus must be livid. Where is he now?"

Cullen hesitates. "After Adamant, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds and sent them marching south to the Arbor Wilds. His army clearly wasn't prepared to flee. Our victories have them on the defensive."

"They've terrorized Thedas long enough. We end them now. If Corypheus is hiding in the Arbor Wilds, that's where we'll go."

Josephine looks at Leliana in confusion. "But what _is_ Corypheus doing in such a remote area?"

"His people have been ransacking Elven ruins since Haven," she answers. "We believe he seeks more. What he hopes to find, however…continues to elude us."

"Which should surprise no one."

We all turn at the newest voice, the husky quality of it so easily recognizable.

"Fortunately, I can assist," Morrigan says.

I nod at her. "You have my attention, Lady Morrigan."

"What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous."

"Which is?"

She looks at the advisors before looking back at me. "'Tis best…if I show you."

She leaves the room, looking at me over her shoulder. I follow, but not before throwing my advisors a quick look.

Morrigan takes me across the main hall, to the gardens. Finally, on the far side of the gardens, she opens a door to a room used for storage. She closes the door behind me before crossing to a large object hidden under a great white tarp. She grabs one of the edges, pulls it down.

"This is an—"

"Eluvian," I gasp, looking up at the large mirror standing before me. It stretches clear up to the ceiling, the tip of it barely brushing the stone above.

"Yes. An Elven artifact, from a time long before their empire was lost to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but another lies within the Arbor Wilds. _That_ is what Corypheus seeks."

I reach out, letting my fingers grow close to the shining surface without touching it. I can feel the magic pouring out of it, flowing across my skin and making my hair stand on end. "How did you…?"

"I found legends of an Elven temple within the Arbor Wilds, untouched. It proved too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypheus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed. The Eluvian would be his."

"Where does it go?" I ask.

She smiles at me, gesturing for me to stand back. I nod, take a few steps away from the mirror.

She reaches out with her hands. They begin to glow, mana pulsing from them. The mirror reacts, flashing to life so the glass begins to shimmer and wave like water.

Morrigan takes one look at me before walking through. I do not hesitate, follow her without a second thought.

It's like walking through a fine mist that leaves no trace. The magic darting across my skin sets my heart racing.

When we emerge on the other side, I find myself in a large clearing. Fog hangs low over this place and every noise, every step, echoes back to me louder than before.

This place is ancient. I can feel it in my bones, in my blood. The magic is thick, the towering stone walls in the distance pulsing with magic. And everywhere, no matter where I turn my eyes, stand more Eluvians, dark, broken. Like a strange Eluvian graveyard. Only ours pulses and swims with magic.

"If this place once had a name, it has long been lost," Morrigan says, walking in front of me. "I call it the Crossroads, a place where all Eluvians join… Wherever they might be."

I lift my hands, let the fog drift between my fingers. It's only then I realize it isn't really fog. It's magic so thick it clouds everything around it. "This place is extraordinary. How could this even exist?"

"Who can say? Formed from the fabric of time and space, perhaps. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This is how they traveled between them."

I freeze. Of course. I had been so enthralled that I hadn't even realized that this place would obviously have origins with my people. Oh, how Solas would love to see this place…

"As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: broken, corrupted, or unusable. As for the rest… A few can be opened from this side. But only a few."

"How did you find out about this place?"

"My travels have led me to many strange destinations, Inquisitor. Once they led me here. It offered sanctuary."

I look at her. "Sanctuary?"

"Not all the mirrors lead back to our world. The ancients were nothing if not…resourceful."

_Our world. _"If they don't lead back to our world, then…"

"Places between, like this one." She pauses, looking around like me, though with eyes that have already seen it all. "I can describe it no better. For a time, I had a safe place to raise my son. But only for a time. One cannot remain in between forever."

I walk up to a broken Eluvian, the glass shattered on the ground around it. "What do you mean, 'a few can be opened from this side?'"

"Some of the Eluvians have been left unlocked, like doors accidentally left ajar. All others are closed. They can be opened only from beyond."

"Opened how?"

"With a key."

I turn toward her. "I suppose you have such a key."

"The key can be many things. Each Eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Often that is enough."

"And Corypheus wants to come…here?"

She sits down on a ledge. "This…is not the Fade, but it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers…"

My heart drops. "And enter the Fade in the flesh. Like Corypheus wanted to do with the Anchor."

"He learned of the Eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces to reach it."

She stands then, walking toward the Eluvian we came through. I follow her reluctantly.

"You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him, and soon."

She walks through. I hesitate, take a moment to look around, the longing in my body so strong I almost cannot stand it. I sigh, steeling myself as I turn my back on the ruins and walk through back to Skyhold.

* * *

"With an Eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the Fade in the flesh?" Leliana asks.

"Indeed," Morrigan says, nodding as she sits down on a barrel pulled up next to the table. "The Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them."

Cullen's face pales. "What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?"

"Why, he will gain his heart's desire, and take the power of a god." She looks at me. "Or—and this is more likely—the lunatic will unleash forces that tear the world apart."

"I won't allow it," I mutter. "I can't."

"Indeed," Morrigan agrees. "Should Corypheus succeed, do not doubt you would be first to feel his holy wrath."

Josephine has been silent this whole time, her eyes unfocused and clouded with fear. She finally shakes her head, stands to her feet, if a bit unsteady. "Pardon me, but… Does this mean everything's lost unless we get to the Eluvian before him?"

Silence floods the room for a long few seconds as everyone exchanges glances.

Cullen sighs. "Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves."

"We should gather our allies before we march," Josephine says.

"Can we wait for them?" Leliana asks, shrugging. "We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds."

"Without support from the soldiers?" Cullen laughs. "You'd lose half of them!"

Josephine barely keeps her voice steady "Then what _should_ we do?"

I sigh in exasperation. "For starters, we don't let Corypheus worry us to death. Imagine how embarrassing that would be."

All of them shake their heads, lower their gazes.

"Josephine, have our allies send scouts to meet us in the Wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them." Both of them nod at me. "Together, we'll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus's army until Cullen's soldiers arrive."

Morrigan laughs, a throaty sound. "Such confidence, but the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old Elven magic lingers in those woods."

Josephine already has her clipboard out, scribbling on the parchment. "We'd be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise."

"'Tis why I came here, although it is good to see its value recognized."

Cullen looks at me. "Any further instructions, Inquisitor?"

I nod, stand to my feet. "The Inquisition began as a handful of soldiers. Thanks to you, we're now a force that will topple a self-proclaimed god."

All three of them stand taller, smirks on their faces.

"I could ask for no finer council, no better guidance."

Cullen's throat constricts with his swallow. "I speak for all of us when I answer: we could ask for no finer cause."

"We'll hound Corypheus in the Wilds before he can find the temple or this 'Eluvian,'" Leliana says.

* * *

**Well hello everyone! I hope everyone had a good week!**

**... Did I post a chapter last week? I _thought _I did, but now that I'm thinking about it... I don't think I did. If not, I'm sorry :(**

**So I know in this part, when Morrigan takes you to the Eluvian, she has a big old speech about what it is, what it does, etc. But obviously, my Inky is an elf so of course she's already going to know! So I cut it out, a lot of it actually, if I remember correctly. It's actually one of the few major points that you can tell the default playthrough was not made to be for an elf for sure...**

**Hope you enjoy!**


	45. Temple of Mythal

45 - Temple of Mythal

The advisors spend the next day frantically working on the plan laid before us. Cullen leaves with his forces, leading them to the Wilds. Leliana sends her scouts out while Josephine works furiously to send out messages calling for aid from allies. Because of Leliana's well-trained messenger birds, we hear back from them within two days, confirming their assistance.

By the fourth day, we hear back that Leliana's people have burned down multiple Venatori camps in the Wilds, crippling their movement.

By a week, we hear from Cullen, confirming their arrival and successful occupation of the area.

This is my cue. Morrigan has already said she will come. Because of the urgency of the matter, all my companions—including my advisors—are coming as well. Josephine has already left, since she is planning on meeting with Ambassador Briala and Emperor Gaspard, both of whom are joining in the assault as well.

It's a seven day journey to the Wilds from Skyhold, despite the fact that the Wilds border the Frostbacks to the far southwest. Leliana's people had managed to find a shortcut over the mountains but the rest of us choose to take the safer route, heading north and then pivoting back south once clear from the mountains.

Finally, we reach the forward camp the Inquisition soldiers had set up. All of us hop off our horses, grabbing our packs and taking them to where tents have already been set up for us.

"Inquisitor," a Captain says once I reemerge from my tent.

"How goes the battle, Captain?"

"The red Templars fall beneath our blades, Your Worship," she says. "Commander Cullen says they're nearly finished. Our scouts saw Corypheus traveling toward an Elven ruin to the north. We can clear you a path through his armies."

"Do only what you must. We need enough people for a celebration when we get back to Skyhold."

"We will not fail you, my lady," she says, crossing her arm over her chest. "No matter what comes." She then bows. "Andraste guide you, Inquisitor."

Morrigan appears once the Captain leaves. "I wonder: is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?"

"They show me respect, Morrigan. No one mistakes me for their Maker."

"True. You are far more likely to come to their aid than a Chantry fable…but I digress. If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal."

I feel my heart start to pound. "Mythal? Really?"

She nods. "If Corypheus seeks it, then the Eluvian he covets lies within."

We both turn when we hear a few, small explosions just outside the camp.

"Let us hope we reach this temple _before_ the entire forest is reduced to ash," she says with a sneer.

I nod. "Let's get a few hours rest, then we'll head in."

* * *

Ambassador Briala waits for me just outside my tent a few hours later. "You've put together an impressive army, Inquisitor," she says. Her mask is off, and it's the first time I've seen her without it. Her hair is dark, almost as dark as mine, and her face petite with large eyes.

"You're dressed for battle," I say, noting her leathers and the weapons at her hip.

"If the Herald of Andraste dares the fray, I could hardly stay home," she laughs.

"But, should you risk yourself in battle, Marquise Briala?"

"It's safer here with the Red Templars than home with Orlesian nobles eyeing my back. It will be refreshing to see the blade coming. Sound the charge, Inquisitor, and we'll show Corypheus what comes of interfering in the affairs of Orlais." She then nods at me, walks away.

Blackwall, Cole, and Solas have already agreed to come with me to the temple, Solas's eyes bright with excitement. The rest are staying behind, helping the battle going on deep in the woods.

On our way out, I spot Josephine, who wishes me luck.

"Move everyone immediately if the fighting comes closer," I tell her.

"You may count on it," she replies. "Good luck."

We move, get closer to where the fighting is taking place.

"If the soldiers aren't careful with their fires," Solas says with a scowl as a fire bursts to life near us, "they'll do Corypheus's work for him."

"Do you sense the magic crackling?" Morrigan asks. "Something more powerful than the red Templars stirs."

I know what she means. I can feel it, rushing across my skin.

We keep moving, down a large incline, through a natural tunnel where the hills rise up and over us on either side. The woods here remind me so much of the Emerald Graves, thick and full. It had been one of my favorite places to explore in the last few months, air tingling with the magics of my people. Here, I feel the same, feel that kinship in the air around me.

Red Templar stragglers dot the area ahead. Morrigan joins us in the battle, swinging her staff along with Solas and I. It's the first time I've seen her battle since I met her, and I suddenly can see why she is so well known, why the Hero of Ferelden had let her join in the fight against the last Blight. Her magic is strong, practiced.

We reach a clearing, where a great waterfall pours down into a small lake. The waterfall is _massive_, water falling from high enough that I have to crane my neck to see the top. More Templars wait for us here, pacing across a very old bridge overgrown with vines. We must be getting close to the temple. The magic in the air is starting to thicken, great mounds of very old stone walls crumbled on the ground.

We pass a statue of Ghilan'nain, barely recognizable underneath all the foliage.

Later, we stumble upon a camp of red Templars. They aren't expecting us, many of them sitting in their tents, drinking or relaxing. A few Inquisition soldiers join us and the camp is quickly cleared out.

Then, quite suddenly, there are _elves_ attacking us from the shadows, appearing from no where, trying to flank us and take us by surprise. A couple of Inquisition soldiers fall, which makes my heart ache, but it's the warning we need to know that something else is out there trying to kill us.

"Who _were_ those elves?" I ask, once they stop coming and, seemingly, are gone or defeated. "They didn't look Dalish."

"It seems this Temple of Mythal is not deserted after all," Solas says, a bit breathless.

"Perhaps these creatures are the reason few return from the Arbor Wilds," Morrigan adds.

All of us are suddenly on high alert, moving a bit slower through the woods, our eyes all roaming the area around us. I watch dark corners, try to feel for any signs of movement.

We come to what must be the entrance, or at the very least the pathway, that leads to the temple. Great stone pillars line the path, vines twisting their way up the pillars so they look like giant, branchless trees. More elves appear out of the shadows, dancing their way toward us with daggers drawn. They're light on their feet, lighter than I've ever seen. They prance around my magic, dodge Blackwall's sword and Cole's daggers. Eventually, I get frustrated enough that I cast a ward around myself and throw myself forward, calling my spirit blade to slash through them.

It works. They aren't expecting me to rush them, not after seeing me cast from a distance. My blade brings them down and I look down at their bodies with a sigh.

"_What_ are these elves thinking?" I mutter under my breath, quiet enough no one hears.

We find Leliana farther up the path, fighting off more red Templars. She's fast, showing in the short time I see her fight that she's skilled with her blades, much more than I've come to expect. "Good hunting, Inquisitor!" She calls to us. "We are keeping them at bay! Follow the river to the temple!"

We do as she said, running alongside the river, sometimes jumping into the shallows when the cliffs on either side are too steep. More broken and battered stone bridges greet us as we move.

Finally, I see a looming stone structure up ahead. The short stairs leading up to it are flanked by Ghilan'nain statues on either side. The great stone pathway leading into its depths is long, the exit on the other side so small it looks like a small speck of light. I look back at my friends.

"Are you guys ready?"

They nod.

Solas grabs my hand and squeezes it. "Be ready. Corypheus will be there."

"I hear fighting ahead," Morrigan says, already a few steps ahead of us in the tunnel.

We run down it, slowing once we get closer to the other side. Indeed, I can hear fighting, yelling, swords swinging.

I don't let myself get lost in the wonder once we cross through the other side. I can see this temple is open to the sky, great trees casting it in shadow. Instead, I motion for my companions to duck down, below the railing where many Templar bodies lie dead. I scoot forward, peek between the stone gaps to look down at the scene below.

A group of red Templars stands in front of a group of elves, weapons drawn. Corypheus stands at the front, along with the Templar Samson. None of them move toward each other.

"Na melana sur, banallen!" The elf in the very front says. I cannot see his face, due to the hood drawn over his head.

Like the Elvhen spoken by the Nightmare to Solas, I don't recognize the words in full. This is an ancient Elvhen, no doubt the core of where our current language came from.

"They still think to fight us, Master," Samson says. A Templar tosses one of the elven corpses at them.

Corypheus walks toward them. "These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows."

I look to Morrigan, lower my voice. "Well of Sorrows?"

She shakes her head, shrugs.

As Corypheus approaches them, statues on either side of the bridge where the elves hold their ground begin to glow. Corypheus pauses, watches the ancient magics spiral up the statues. "Be honored! Witness death at the hands of a new god!"

He walks forward. The statues burst with light, hitting Corypheus with lightning so strong it sets him on fire. He keeps moving, grabs the elf who had spoken earlier by the face, pulling him into the air.

Then Corypheus explodes, the blast throwing everyone back. I cover my face, duck back farther behind the railing.

When I look up, the Templars are gone, running down the bridge toward the entrance to the temple proper. The statues on either side are gone, the elves either dead or passed out.

The five of us walk forward tentatively. Samson looks back at us from the other side of the bridge, throws us a smile.

"Vhenan."

I turn toward Solas, who is looking down toward a wounded Grey Warden. His body is twitching, his face screwed up with pain.

He screams, blood pouring from his mouth, his eyes, his ears. He collapses into his pool of blood and his body starts to bubble.

"It cannot be," Morrigan gasps.

The skin of the Templar falls away, melting into the ground. And then Corypheus's arm emerges, cracking into place.

My body goes numb. "Across the bridge, now!" I scream, pushing them toward the bridge.

We all run, pushing ourselves faster than we've ever moved before. I hear a great scream, the cry of a dragon that burns in my body.

We reach the other side, grab the doors. We start to push, the doors moving slowly. Just as the doors start to touch, I feel red hot power explode against the doors. But the doors seal, a great flash of golden light bursting up to the ceiling as they lock.

I heave, my body buzzing with disbelief. "I want to know how Corypheus returned to life. We saw him _die_."

"And his life force passes on to any Blighted creature, darkspawn or Grey Warden," Morrigan answers, her voice grim.

"Then Corypheus cannot die," Solas mutters. "Destroy his body, and he will assume another."

"We'll find a way to stop him once we're done here," I say.

"'Tis strange," Morrigan whispers. "Archdemons posses the same ability, and still the Grey Wardens are able to slay them. Yet Corypheus they locked away. Perhaps they knew he could do this… But not how."

I push my fear aside, the dread filling my body. I motion forward, ignoring how my arm shakes. No one says a word and I know they all are thinking the same thing I am.

* * *

**Okay guys. I did a bad. Long story short, I took a break from my writing back in May because, between this story and one of my original works, I wrote around 160k words in just over two months. I was burned out, exhausted. Well, I realized last week, when I came on to post the chapter (which I know I didn't do), that this chapter...is the last I have written down. **

**I know! I know! I had promised that I was well on the way to finishing, but with how much I wrote in such a short time, coupled with the fact that I was officially past what I had actually played in Inquisition to double check that dialogue options chosen in this walkthrough I'm following were true to my character... I failed. I'm super sorry! I'm going to start buckling back down and get this finished cause, guys...we're _this close_. I don't plan on giving up anytime soon! **

**The good news is, my daughter is in preschool now 3 days a week, a couple hours a day so I _do_ have time to sit down and write. I just need to do it. So, here's to hoping I can get another chapter written and proofread before next Friday!**

**Oh wait. My daughter has a field trip to the pumpkin patch on Friday, so I'll be busy most of the day... So then let's plan for the Friday after!**

**Hope you guys enjoy! Love the reviews! Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to leave me some!**


	46. Rituals

46 - Rituals

"At last, Mythal's sanctum," Morrigan breathes a few minutes later. "Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes."

"I thought Corypheus was here for an Eluvian," Blackwall says. "Why did he mention a 'Well of Sorrows' back on the bridge?"

Morrigan's usually calm and collected expression flushes a bit. She reaches up and scratches her head. "I…am uncertain of what he referred to."

"Could they be the same? Could 'Eluvian' translate into 'Well of Sorrows?'" Considering how much Elvish I didn't fully understand…

She shakes her head. "No. It seems an Eluvian is not the prize Corypheus seeks."

I cross my arms, narrow my eyes at her.

"Yes, I was wrong! Does that please you? Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp."

I sigh, turning from her and stepping toward the sanctum. "Let's find this Well before Corypheus's people do."

We move forward. Like the area behind us, this temple stands open to the air, although I cannot tell if it's because of the ages that have worn away the stone or the recent destruction. Vines have grown with vigor up the walls, almost every square inch covered in green foliage. The trees are thick inside, roots spreading across the ground like worms, disappearing through the carved rock beneath with ease.

The five of us move onto a raised platform in the middle of the large vestibule. When my feet rest on the first of the stones at the top of the stairs, the tile beneath me begins to glow with an otherworldly light, my skin tingling.

"It appears the temple's magicks are still strong," Morrigan says.

In front of us, two large pillars shoot up from the ground, vines thickly wrapped around it. I recognize the letters carved into its surface, though most of it is obscured by vines too strong to move out of the way.

"Abelasan," I murmur, moving closer to the stone. "Or, 'place of sorrow.' Could that be referring to the Well?" A few mention knowledge, respect, purity. "Shiven…shivenne…" I turn to the others. "At least we know the Well of Sorrows was important."

Morrigan approaches the pillar. "Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry."

Blackwall sighs. "So, good Andrastians, we offer a prayer to elven gods?"

"If need be," Morrigan answers when I do not. "Unless you wish to turn back?"

He says nothing.

I look down at my feet, at where the ground still glows with magicks. I step forward, following the stones around the two pillars at the center, each new step lighting up and surging through me. The magicks flowing from the ground guide me, showing me where to move to open the temple to us. Once all the tiles glow, a sound like a lock clicking echoes through the open air.

"And why did we need to do that?" Blackwall asks.

"Perhaps this ritual was little more than a polite knock at the gate," Morrigan speculates. "These customs must have been as familiar to ancient elves as bowing to a queen is to you and I."

I laugh. "I find it difficult to picture you curtsying to anyone."

"Have we become so familiar you can predict my manners and customs now? Nothing is lost by indulging in the occasional civilized conduct… Particularly when unexpected."

I laugh. I move forward, toward the gates leading farther in. "Are you certain Corypheus is using the power of the Blight to make himself immortal?"

"Perhaps you forget: I was in Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. I have seen a true Archdemon rage." She crosses her arms, her brows furrowing. "How Corypheus gained the power to send his soul into Blighted bodies… That is the real question."

"And will answering that question let us destroy Corypheus for good?"

"Perhaps. I would suggest first dealing with the Well. If Corypheus obtains it, any chance of success could be lost."

Blackwall clears his throat. "So who was this 'Mythal,' anyway?"

"An old Elven god," I answer, gesturing to my vallaslin. "The great Protector."

Morrigan chuckles. "Or perhaps Mythal was a powerful elf, a ruler among her kind." I look over my shoulder at Morrigan. "The Dread Old Gods were nothing more than dragons, after all. They rise as Archdemons, and they die. History often plays storyteller with facts."

I stop, open my mouth to retort, but Solas is faster.

"You admit lack of knowledge, and yet dismiss her so readily?"

All of us have stopped now.

"I do not dismiss her. I question her supposed divinity. One need not be a god to have value. Truthfully, I am uncertain Mythal was even a single entity. The accounts are…varied."

"Varied?" Blackwall mutters.

"Yes. In most stories, Mythal rights wrongs while exercising motherly kindness. 'Let fly your voice to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike.' Other paint her as dark, vengeful. Pray to Mythal, and she would smite your enemies, leaving them in agony."

I reach up, touch the tattoo across my face.

"More Dalish tales, I assume?" Solas asks, voice dripping with barely contained distain.

"Speak your mind, Solas," I say, dropping my hand.

"The oldest accounts say Mythal was both of these, and neither. She was the Mother, protective and fierce. That is all I will say. This is not a place to stir up old stories."

"Whatever the truth," Morrigan sighs, "all accounts of Mythal end the same: exiled to the Beyond with her brethren."

"Tricked by the Dread Wolf," I add.

"As all the elven gods were said to be," Morrigan finishes. "Trapped in a land beyond the Fade. Many Dalish believe this is why the elves fell from grace and their gods did not save them." She shrugs. "Or perhaps they were simply rulers slain by Tevinter. Who can say?"

The look on Solas's face makes me turn my back on them, pressing forward.

At the first landing, we find the bodies of red Templars lying in pools of their own blood.

"I see the red Templars have already encountered the temple's guardians," Morrigan murmurs.

"Those elves lay an impressive ambush," Blackwall says. "Where are they?"

"Preparing another display of hospitality, no doubt."

"These elves… They seem…odd," I whisper, keeping my voice low.

"Indeed," Morrigan agrees. "Two things are possible. One, this is a group of Dalish separated from their brethren. Cultists. Fanatic in their desire to keep humans away. Two, these are elves descended from the Ancients, having resided here since before the fall of Arlathan. The second appears unlikely, but if true, the implications are astounding."

"Is that even possible? How?"

"With magic, anything is possible. Whatever the truth, the guardians successfully kept the temple a secret. They must kill all who enter." She motions to me. "Even the Dalish. A more sensible question might be 'why.'"

I ignore the glowing door at the top of the stairs, instead walking along the railing to a hallway leading to a small overlook. At the back of it lies…

"Why would _this_ be here?" Morrigan says, stopping before the giant wolf and crossing her arms.

"Is something wrong?" Blackwall asks, cocking his head to the side.

"It depicts the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel. In elven tales, he tricks their gods into sealing themselves away in the Beyond for all time." She laughs. "Setting Fen'Harel in Mythal's greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry."

I shrug, purposely avoiding Solas's eye. "My clan set statues of the Dread Wolf outside our camp. They're meant to frighten harmful spirits."

"Perhaps. I thought the ancient elves above quaint superstitions."

"For all your 'knowledge,' Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history." Solas's brow furrows in that way it does when he's biting his tongue. "The wise do not mistake one for the other."

Morrigan huffs. "Pray tell, what meaning does our elven 'expert' sense lurking behind this?"

"None we can discern by staring at it."

I laugh. "You two look like you're about to kiss when you argue."

They both glare at me. I waggle my eyebrows at Solas as Morrigan turns away. "'Tis time we pressed forward."

"Agreed," Solas says, frowning even deeper at me. I merely shrug and follow Morrigan back toward the glowing door.

I press my hand to the surface of the pulsating stone. It opens beneath my touch without hesitation, throwing us into darkness. The enclosed hallway before us is short, the floor littered with rubble from the ceiling. I push open the door on the other end.

Before us stands a small courtyard. Above us, on the balcony overlooking the pool just steps in front of us, I hear and see an explosion. The floor buckles slightly and I brace myself, ignoring the jerk of my heart in my chest. Two twisted red Templars jerk backwards with the shock. Between them stands Samson.

"Hold them off!" He shouts, motioning toward us.

More Templars move from out of the shadows. I can see the red veins crawling over their skin, see the red of their eyes. In one smooth motion I grab my staff and take aim at Samson. Before my spell hits him, he disappears, jumping down out of sight. I yell in frustration, reach for my blade and swing at the nearest Templar.

We overpower them fairly quickly. I then motion for the others, rush toward where Samson disappeared.

"Hold! A moment." Morrigan says when we reach the massive crevasse in the floor where Samson had disappeared, reaching for me and stopping me. "While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination." She motions to the door behind us. "We should walk the petitioner's path, as before."

Cole shakes his head. "People are dying outside while we stand here. If we use the tunnel, more of our soldiers can flee."

Solas sighs. "In this case, I must agree with the witch. This is ancient ground, deserving of our respect."

"You see the urgency," Morrigan nods. "We _cannot_ find the Well of Sorrows unprepared."

"We don't know what's behind those doors," I say. I point toward the crevasse. "They might have a reason for going another way."

"Had they the option, they would have proceeded. _That_ must lead to their goal."

I frown, suddenly feeling off. The look in Morrigan's eyes is too eager, too desperate. "Their goal? Or yours?"

For once, Morrigan seems taken aback. She nods toward the door, moving past me. "There is…a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once, things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser." She stops, turning toward me. "Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well. I would have it restored."

I clench my fists. "You barely know what the Well of Sorrows is, but you want to restore it?"

"Yes! Is Thedas so full of wonders that we should leave them to die one by one?"

"We know nothing of it!" My voice threatens to boom through the air, shake my being.

Morrigan's eyes darken with sadness. "Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic… The list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true." I stare her down for a moment, watch the smile creep across her face. "You missed a portion of the writings back in the other chamber."

I blink furiously. "I did?"

"It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows… but at a terrible price."

"What exactly did the alter say?"

"Like most elven writing, it was insufferably vague. The term I deciphered was 'halam'shivanas.'"

"'The sweet sacrifice of duty,'" I mutter.

"It implies the loss of something personal for duty's sake. Yet for those who served at this temple, a worthwhile trade."

I shake my head, growl under my breath. "Did you not trust me enough to tell me about this price when you read it?"

"I hoped to find more information. If I intended to cheat you, I would have feigned ignorance entirely. My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the cost."

"And gain what?" I finally ask.

"That is what we must discover. The rituals may point the way."

I glare at her, turning away from her for a moment to look at Solas. I then sigh. "What if something happens to you? What about your son?"

"Kieran is…a strong lad." Her voice quavers for a moment. "He will thrive, with or without me."

"Are you sure of that?"

She chuckles. "I am sure of precious little these days."

I finally unclench my fists and sigh. "Fine then. Let's finish these rituals."

* * *

**Hello everyone! Sorry I didn't update last week like I planned. I actually had very little time to type, let alone watch the walkthrough and copy all the dialogue down that I wanted...**

**Am I the only one that really loves this part of the game? Especially knowing everything beforehand? It's always so interesting to me, listening to the banter and screaming at the screen XD**

**Hope you guys enjoyed! And also, early Happy Halloween for those that celebrate!**


	47. What Pride Had Wrought

47 - What Pride Had Wrought

The ritual waiting for us works just like it had before. I let the magic flow over me, guiding me across the stones, unnatural blue light radiating from the ground as I move. It acts like a puzzle of sorts, the light from all the stones disappearing if I step on one more than once. It takes me only two times to figure out how to charge all the stones.

"That did something," I say once the ground pulses below us.

"Indeed," Morrigan answers. "Time to proceed to the next ritual, I should think."

On our way to the next ritual, we pass mosaics depicting ancient Elven gods, all of which I recognize. Solas pauses in front of the one in honor of Falon'Din.

"Do you know any legends?" I ask him.

"It is said Falon'Din's appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the gods, once the shadow of Falon'Din's hunger stretched across her own people." He sighs, eyes dark, unfocused. "It was almost too late. Falon'Din only surrendered when his brethren bloodied him in his own temple."

I hesitate. "My clan never told a story like that about Falon'Din."

He shrugs. "The further the Dalish spread, the further their stories branch and grow. Never mistake them for arbiters of 'true' Elvhen culture."

Strangely, I do not feel the sting I normally feel when he criticizes the Dalish. Instead, I think of my time in the Fade, of the very few memories I have witnessed myself that differed from what I was taught.

"Never again," I whisper. When Morrigan and the others turn away, I reach up and lightly touch Solas's face. The sadness in his eyes dissipates as he smiles down at me, returning the gesture.

"Such a wonder, you are," he mutters.

I smile, standing on my toes to kiss his nose before following the others.

The next ritual is harder, involving two separate balconies. I have to leap back and forth between them to light all the stones.

"We are close," Morrigan says once the stones pulse. "There is but one more path to follow."

The last ritual is simpler. I sigh. "There. Everything is lit."

"The whispers are louder," Cole mutters. I jump. I'd almost forgotten he was with us.

"Come," Morrigan says, moving passed me. "Let us see if the doors have opened."

I let her lead back the way we came, toward where the hole blown open by the Templars still smokes, thickening the air.

The door at the end of the corridor glows bright with the same magics the tiles had. Morrigan looks back at me and I nod, taking a deep breath just before she pushes it open.

The room is small, the lighting sparse.

"'Tis not what I expected," Morrigan says, turning in a circle on the spot. "What was this chamber used for…"

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I stop, glance over my shoulder. At the very corner of my vision, I see figures behind us, bows taut. "We're being watched."

A man steps forward on the balcony far above us. His face is hooded, the robes he wears are the same as those of the elves who'd attacked us outside. "Venavis," he says. "You…are unlike the other invaders." He gestures to me. "You have the features of those who call themselves Elvhen. You bear the mark of magic which is…familiar."

My hand pulses. I ignore the stab of pain.

"How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"

I frown. "I don't understand the 'slumber' bit. Who _are_ you?"

The man hesitates. Light from the fires dance across his face and I catch a glimpse of the same Mythal vallaslin as mine etched over his face.

"I am called Abelas," he finally says after a moment. "We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground."

I glance behind me once again, at the others standing in an unmoving line behind us, blocking the doorway.

"We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek." I look back up at Abelas, pushing away the unease flowing through my veins at all the arrows currently pointed at me. "Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the vir'abelasan."

"'The Place of the Way of Sorrows,'" both Morrigan and I whisper.

"He speaks of the Well!" She continues, voice low.

Abelas scowls. "It is not _for_ you. It is not for _any_ of you."

It's like something clicks inside my mind. I clench my fists, my body suddenly numb. "You're elves from ancient times? Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?"

The immortal elves still exist.

Abelas shakes his head. "The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan. We Elvhen warred upon ourselves."

Another shock wave rolls through me. The Tevinter Imperium _didn't_ destroy the elves? We destroyed…ourselves?

"By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over. We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before." He sighs and I take the moment to glance at Solas. I know he sees the confusion in my gaze. "It is meaningless. We endure. The vir'abelasan must be preserved."

I swallow, trying to focus more on the present than the past. "What _is_ this vir'abelasan, exactly?" I ask.

"It is a path, one walked only by those who toiled in Mythal's favor."

"He speaks of priests, perhaps?" Morrigan says into my ear.

Abelas continues without pausing. "More than that you need not know."

I look back at Solas. "Perhaps he'll listen to you."

His face is a mask, but his voice quavers. "What shall I say, Inquisitor? Shall I sway him from a millennia of service by virtue of our shared blood?" He averts his eyes, looks down at the floor. "He clings to all that remains of his world, because he lacks the power to restore it."

I hesitate, seeing right away the pain behind his eyes that no one else cares enough to see. He doesn't look back up.

"Our people have lost everything," I say, turning back to Abelas. "They need you. They could learn from you!"

"'Our' people?" He scoffs. "The ones we see in the forest, shadows wearing vallaslin? You are _not_ my people."

I take a step back, my heart pounding. His words hurt more than I anticipate.

"And you have invaded our sanctum as readily as the shemlen."

I swallow again, this time hard and painful. "We knew this place was sacred. We've respected it as best we could."

He stares down at me for a long few seconds. Finally, he nods. "I believe you. Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them."

I sigh in relief.

"When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart…and never return."

"This is our goal, is it not?" Solas whispers. He still doesn't look at me. "There is no reason to fight these Sentinels."

"Consider carefully. You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you may also need the Well for your own," Morrigan says.

I don't even hesitate. Even if they do not see me as one of them, _I_ do. "I accept your offer."

Abelas inclines his head. "You will be guided to those you seek. As for the vir'abelasan… It shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself." He turns, his figure disappearing.

Morrigan suddenly leaps forward, her body enveloped in purple flames. "No!" She screams.

"Morrigan!"

The flames disappear and in her place flies a raven, black as night. It shoots up into the sky, flying after Abelas.

"Dammit," I mutter. I look back at Solas, who seems to have regained his composure. He nods off to our left, where one of the Elvhen motions to us. "This would be our guide?"

"Mythal'enaste," she says in return.

I sigh, following her. "That's helpful, since Morrigan chased off on her own."

"She seeks to protect the Well of Sorrows," Solas says. He grabs my hand.

"She turned into a bird!" Cole says breathlessly.

I merely nod.

Our guide leads us up a small set of stairs, through a disappearing wall. She uses her staff as a walking stick, moving slow. I can't help but notice how familiar her gait is to me.

At the end of a corridor stands a small chamber. Everything is covered in dust, but otherwise clean, undamaged. Everything seems to glimmer with a golden sheen. The floor. The statues. The doors.

"This place looks untouched," I say.

"I've seen Orlesian palaces with less gold," Blackwall mutters. "What did the ancient elves do here?"

"Perhaps it was meant to kindle a sense of awe in visitors," Solas offers.

Blackwall chuckles. "Well, it's working."

Despite our guide's slow gait, I don't have time to take it all in. I still try, spinning in circles, letting my eyes roam over every inch.

"Penshra! Ghilas vellathan!"

I jump at the sound of her voice and look over at her. I hadn't even noticed that I stopped moving. I do not recognize her words and look over at Solas.

He clears his throat. "I believe she would prefer that we remain close."

"Oh. I'm sorry." I pick up my speed, catching up to where she stands waiting for us on a hidden stairway.

We wind through corridors, down hidden passageways and stairwells. When we come to a partially flooded room, I look to my right, through the golden gating between this room and the next.

The sounds of battle echo back to us, flashes of light bursting across the walls.

"The Sentinels are holding off the red Templars," I say.

"They're dying," Cole says. "Faster than they wanted to."

"Vir sumeil," our guide says.

"She says we are close," Solas translates.

The guide stops before a door leading to the other side of the room. The sounds of battle surround me. She motions to the door, taking a step back.

"Ma serannas," I say to her. I turn to the door, pull out my staff before pushing it open.

The fight is right inside the door. None of us pause, jumping right in to separate the Templars from the Elvhen. Too many Elvhen bodies lay scattered across the ground. After the handful of Templars fall, I look back at Solas and see him motion toward the door we just came through. I run back, up the stairs we hadn't yet gone up. It leads to the floor above, where more red Templars and Elvhen fight.

It goes quiet once the last falls. I put my staff up, turn in a circle, looking for our guide.

"There's more fighting," Cole says, pointing toward a set of doors on the other side of the room.

I nod, run toward them.

The world opens on the other side of the doors. They sky looms overhead, the sun shining down onto the trees and water below. I run up to the edge of the balcony, look down.

"The Well of Sorrows," I whisper. That's the only thing it can be, so far down below us.

"Maker's balls!" Blackwall gasps.

Solas stands next to me. "So Mythal endures."

"It's loud. And so cold." Cole shivers.

I swallow. Then I see movement, down beside the water. "The Templars," I mutter. "They're here."

"Let us go!" Solas inclines his head toward the stairs leading down.

The four of us run, passed the mix of Elvhen and Templar bodies. The deeper we go, the louder the sounds of battle become.

"Fight on!" I hear someone scream. I think it's Samson. "An army of these bastards won't stop us!"

"How will you get to the Well, General?"

"Tell me you brought some damned rope!"

The screams of battle suddenly die off. My heart sinks, my breath ragged. We still haven't reached the bottom. How can it be so far down?!

"You tough bastards—a day's march, hours of fighting, and still fierce as dragons."

"No," I groan, recognizing Samson's voice without doubt.

"The Chantry never knew what it was throwing away."

We reach the bottom. Elvhen bodies litter the floor, blood splattered around them. A small group of red Templars stands above them.

"Samson!" One of the Templars calls out, motioning to us. "Ser—watch out!"

I come to a halt when Samson turns to us.

"Inquisitor," he sneers. "You and those elf-things don't know when to stop. You've hunted us across Thedas. I should've guessed you'd follow us into this hole."

I scowl back at him. "I spoke with your Tranquil, Maddox. He sacrificed himself for your cause."

Samson's blackened eyes close. "I told him not to… He died as one of us, then. One of the faithful. Corypheus chose me twice. First as his General, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the Well?" He smiles, cold and unfeeling. "Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world." He turns, looks up at where all the water converges above us. A strange magic pulls the water up the hill, to where I can see the ruins of an altar swallowed by trees. "I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor."

"What's a 'Vessel?'"

"What else empties a well? I'll carry its power to Corypheus. One more task entrusted to me. Being force-fed Chantry lyrium was good for something. This armor makes me a living fortress—mind and body. I won't forget a word of the Well's knowledge. Corypheus will be unstoppable."

I shake my head. "Once Corypheus is that powerful, you and your soldiers will just slow him down."

Samson turns, his face contorted with rage. "You dare say that to my face? After you butchered my men? You're no match for Corypheus. Even if you drink from the Well, you'll never master its wisdom as he could."

Energy surges from him, glowing red. I close my eyes for a brief moment against the rush of power, covering my face. It burns, lighting my skin on fire.

"_This_ is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now. With a new god."

I open my eyes. His body pulses with red magic, eyes glowing red.

"So, Inquisitor. How will this go?"

I laugh. "Power's all well and good. Until it's taken away."

I hold out my hand, holding up the rune that Dagna had made for us. It responds to Samson's armor, sending a wave of energy outward that knocks the Templars back. Samson screams, the red power surrounding him suddenly disappearing.

"What did you do?" He gasps, voice cracking in pain. "_What did you do_?!" He stands shaking to his feet. "My armor. It's gone. The lyrium—I _need_ it!" He roars, throwing his head back.

"Kill them all!"

* * *

**Well hello all! Sorry I haven't been as good at updating every week. Turns out, watching two 3 year olds sure takes up a lot of your free time lol. It's a lot harder to just sit down and write than I anticipated.**

**Hope everyone has had a good month (and year; is it really almost over?) so far! **

**Happy reading!**


	48. Vir'Abelasan

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your patience!**

**So, at the end of it all, I decided to stick with my original plan. Thank you guys for your input! **

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

48 - Vir'Abelasan

I stand over him twenty minutes later. My body shakes, my skin soaked with sweat. I heave, bend over my knees.

"Not the well, you wretch," Samson gasps. "You can't take it from Corypheus. You mustn't…" He takes a deep, shuddering breath. He then collapses face first into the ground.

Blackwall walks up to him, stares for a long few seconds. "Still breathing after all that. Impressive."

I force my spine straight, feel it crack and pop. "We can take him back to Skyhold for judgement."

A great pop echoes around us and I jump. A hooded Elvhen figure comes running around the corner, a black raven materializing out of no where just behind him.

"Abelas!" I yell.

He runs for a great hill just out of reach of where we stand. Ethereal green light bursts at his feet, stones dashing up inches before him, creating a massive staircase leading to the top.

I push myself forward, following as close as I can. As he reaches the top, I hear another loud "pop." I clutch my chest, see Abelas look back at us and then at Morrigan in front of him.

"You heard his parting words, Inquisitor," Morrigan says, her lips pursed. "The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!"

Abelas glares at me as I move around him, then toward Morrigan. "So the Sanctum is despoiled at last."

"You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance," Morrigan says.

"To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!"

Morrigan growls. "Fool! You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows!"

I reach out, touch her shoulder. "Enough."

She shoves my hand away. "You cannot honestly—"

"I said, _enough_."

We glare at each other for what seems a long moment. Finally, she shakes her head. "The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?"

Abelas scowls. "Do you even know what you ask?" He turns, gazes down at the water at his feet. I hadn't even noticed it. I had been too focused on Abelas and Morrigan.

It's much like a giant bath. Steps lead down into the dark water, which ripples despite the completely still air. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the power emanating from the water wash over me.

"As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on…through this." He gestures at the water. It seems almost to respond to him, the ripples on the surface increasing in speed. "All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever."

I step forward, ignoring the pang of my heart. "This can't be easy, holding on to what's left."

"You cannot imagine. Each time we awaken, it slips further from our grasp."

Solas smiles at him. "There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger."

Abelas stares at him. "Elvhen such as you?"

"Yes. Such as I."

Everyone grows silent. Abelas's gaze shifts to me. "You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir'Abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?"

I hesitate for a moment. I then nod. "Not without your permission."

"One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right." He turns away from us, walks to the edge of the hill. "The Vir'Abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal."

Morrigan scoffs. "Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?"

Abelas nods. "Bound, as we are bound. The choice is yours."

I step between them. "Is it possible that Mythal might still exist?"

"Anything is possible."

Morrigan shakes her head. "Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen'Harel and banished to the Beyond."

"'Elven' legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder."

My heart stops and I look back at Solas during the brief silence.

"Murder?" Morrigan mutters. "I said nothing of—"

"She was slain, if a God truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the Vir'Abelesan remains. As do we. That is something."

"Are you leaving the temple?" I ask.

"Our duty ends. Why remain?"

"There is a place for you, lethallin." Solas's voice is soft, full of sadness. "If you seek it."

"Perhaps there are places the shemlen have not touched. It may be that only uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken. If fate is kind."

"Thank you for this gift, Abelas," I mutter.

"Do not thank me yet, shemlen."

Solas extends his hand for just a moment. "Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas."

The two of them stare at each other. Abelas then inclines his head before turning and walking away. I watch until long after he's gone from view. When I look back, Blackwall is giving Solas a strange look.

"His name," Solas says once he notices. "Abelas means sorrow. I said… I hoped he finds a new name."

Blackwall says nothing.

"You'll note the intact Eluvian," Morrigan says, turning to look at the other side of the pool. A giant mirror, just like the one back on Skyhold, stands untouched against the stone wall. "I was correct on that count, at least."

"Is it still a threat? Can Corypheus use it to travel the Fade?"

"You recall when I took you through my Eluvian, I said each required a key? The Well _is_ the key. Take its power, and Mythal's last Eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass." She reaches a hand toward the water, pauses. "I did not expect the Well to feel so…hungry."

I take a step toward her. "Don't go any closer, Morrigan."

For a moment, it seems as if she doesn't hear me. She continues to stare into the water, her eyes unfocused. Finally, she turns toward me. "I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service."

Before I can respond, Solas steps forward. "Or more likely, to your own ends."

"What would you know of my 'ends,' elf?"

"Morrigan," I growl.

"You are a glutton drooling at the sight of a feast," Solas says. "You cannot be trusted."

"Enough," I say, raising my voice only slightly.

The two of them scowl. Morrigan shakes her head. "Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor."

My brows furrow. "'You alone?' This is _my_ heritage!"

"I have studied the oldest lore. I have delved into mysteries of which you could only dream! Can you _honestly_ tell me there is anyone better suited?"

I scoff. "Of course I can!" I turn, lock eyes with Solas. "What about you?"

The hardness of his gaze makes me come up short. "No. Do not ask me again."

I gulp. It takes longer than I want to admit to compose myself. "Then I would be."

Morrigan shakes her head. "You lead the Inquisition. This is not a risk you can take. I have the best chance of making use of the Well…for everyone. Let me drink."

"You're not concerned about the price? 'Bound forever to the will of Mythal?'"

"Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty warning. Perhaps a compulsion yet remains. Who can say otherwise? I do not fear it, even so."

I turn away from her, cross my arms over my chest. My head pounds. "I hate to say it, but Abelas's plan to destroy the Well may be the best one."

"And what happens when Corypheus comes for you again? He is _immortal_. The wisdom of the Well may include a way to destroy him. Give me this, and I fight at your side. I shall be your sword."

I sigh. "Give me a moment to think."

"We have not the time."

I look at Solas, chew on the inside of my lip. I know his look too well. If I let Morrigan drink of the Well, he will never trust her, never be satisfied that it was the right choice. If _I_ drink…he will forever be disappointed in my willingness to bind myself to someone, let alone a God.

I don't know what to do. I turn back toward the water, stare at its depths as Morrigan had. "Looking at it, listening to it… That's not just knowledge from the ancient elven priests. It's their will."

Morrigan raises an eyebrow at me. "How would you know such a thing?"

"_That's_ what Abelas was telling us." I frown, sigh. "The collective will of the priests puts anyone who drinks under a compulsion, a geas." I reach out, fingers not quite touching the water. "Can't you feel it?"

She hesitates. "That…_would_ match the legends, but it does not tell us what the geas entails." She quiets for a moment. "I would still use the Well, but you are right. We must be cautious."

I shake my head, rub my eyes, pushing away the want, the _need_ to dive into the water. "Thoughts?" I say, turning toward everyone else.

Solas is the first to speak. "She is right about only one thing: we should take the power which lies in that Well."

This shocks me, but only slightly.

"I'd trust you with this power more than her," Blackwall says, glaring at Morrigan. "But it is not for me to decide."

I look to Cole, who wrings his hands. "So many voices. They would be in your head, talking over you. You don't want them."

"Enough deliberation," Morrigan says. "Give me your decision."

I stand for a long moment. There is a part of me, so strong I can barely contain it, that wants this power for myself. Not just to defeat Corypheus, but because _I_ am Elvhen. Why should I let Morrigan have this power when I am more worthy of it? When _I_ have spent my entire life worshiping the gods she so casually dismisses? When _I_ am the one with Mythal's vallaslin etched across my face? I could do so much for my people with this knowledge. I could help them rebuild, take back what once was ours. I take a step toward the Well, clenching my fists…and then look back at Solas.

His look is what stops me. Helps me remember the consequences.

I am no slave. Not even to Mythal.

I am me.

I stop mid-stride and then take a step backwards. "Perhaps…you're right, Morrigan."

"I am. You know I am."

I take a deep breath. "Then, it's yours."

Morrigan does not hesitate. She turns toward the Well as I move backwards, towards Solas. He wraps his arm around me as she lifts her foot over the water.

Jealousy grabs at my heart. But I repeat to myself, over and over…

_I am no slave. I am me._

The Well senses her. The water begins to pulse, light twirling around her as she lowers herself into it. She walks toward the center, the light around her growing brighter with every step. Finally, she turns toward us, her lips tight in a wide smile. She closes her eyes.

She drops into the water.

A great wave shoots into the sky, spraying in every direction. I gasp, cover my face against the gust of wind and power that engulfs us all.

When I open my eyes, the pool is dry. Morrigan lies in the center, her body still.

I push away from Solas, rush toward her. "Morrigan?" I bend down over her. "Are you all right?"

She gasps when I touch her. She pushes me away, shaking her head.

"Ellasin selah! Vissan… vissanalla…"

I don't recognize the words. I look up at the rest of them, who have joined us on the now dry bed of the pond.

Morrigan stands, rubbing her eyes. She shakes her head. "I… I am intact." She touches her forehead, glances around the room. She fidgets, backs away from us. "There is much to sift through… but now we can—"

A dark fog begins to surround us, twirling around our feet. I feel it at the same time as Morrigan, look back at the entrance on the other side of the room to see Corypheus standing there, watching us. He is too far away to see clearly, but his scream echoes off the walls.

And then suddenly he is in the air, floating toward us.

"The Eluvian!" Morrigan yells.

My heart beats furiously. I turn just as she points at it. Instantly, it starts to glow.

"Through the mirror!" I scream. I run ahead of them motioning for them to go through before me. I watch, heart hammering, as Corypheus grows closer.

Suddenly, a glowing figure appears from the bottom of the pool, moving so it floats between me and him.

I don't stay to watch. I turn, push myself through the glowing mirror. Seconds later, I feel it shatter behind me.


	49. Announcement

**Hello all you beautiful, wonderful readers of mine!**

**Listen. I know I haven't updated this story in quite a long time. I get it. It's probably really frustrating, especially since I had a schedule going and all and was really good about keeping this story up-to-date. But I promise, I actually have a really good reason that I haven't been able to keep this story updated.**

**See, I've been playing this on my husband's Xbox One. Well, a few months ago, the CD reader decided to pull a Solas and say "see ya!" Basically, it died and can no longer read any of the games we have as actual CDs. Which of course, includes Inquisition. This means that I haven't been able to keep up with this story and make sure all my decisions and dialogue choices actually are ****_mine_****, versus a weird conglomerate of all the different choices I can find on the inter webs. Watching the different Let's Play videos and picking out which ones make the same decisions that my Lavellan ****_might_**** make while also staying true to previous decisions is just...it doesn't feel the same. **

**However, there is a light at the end of the tunnel! I recently bought myself a PS4 (not at all having to do with Final Fantasy VII Remake...) and the Gold Edition of Inquisition recently went on sale for super, super cheap. Like, $8 cheap. Which means that I now have the means to play this game and all it's DLC's again. Unfortunately, I ****_do_**** have to start over from the beginning, since my play through is on my husband's Xbox... So I'm still a good couple of months from getting to this point in the story so I can start keeping track of dialogue, unique choices, etc. Also, let's face it. You know how hard it is to find a Solasmance play through where Lavellan ****_doesn't_**** drink from the Well? ? ? It's hard, guys. Really, ****_really_**** hard. And at this point, so much rides on previous choices and everything, and it's just getting way, way too difficult to navigate it all without the option of cross-checking everything myself to make sure everything lines up. It's hard.**

**On that note, I recently made a Twitch account and have started live streaming. I'm currently playing through FFVII Remake, but I was actually thinking about playing Inquisition once I finish. And if I do, I figured, why not play as my Lavellan? The one from this story? We can live through the sorrow together, ****_in person_**** (kinda). That doesn't mean I'm just going to live stream my play through and ****_not_**** finish this story, though. No, no, no. I'm still going to write it all down and post it here. Just, you'll get to ****_see_**** me make these choices, if you want. I'll be posting the URL to my Twitch in my profile, if you guys are interested!**

**All that to say, thank you for your patience you guys. I promise I have a plan! I'm working on it! I just want to give you guys a great, and cohesive, story! The best I possibly can!**

**Happy reading! **


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